The Eagles Prey

'We'll leave him. He's a dead man, and he knows it. We just have to be certain he goes down fighting, or makes sure he isn't captured alive.' Cato straightened up, clearing his throat. 'You take the others on. I'll have a word with him and follow you.'

'A word?' Figulus looked at him sharply.'Just a word, mind.'

'You don't trust me?'

'Trust a centurion? After ending up in this situation? Don't push your luck, sir.'

Cato smiled. 'I've been pushing it ever since I joined the legion. Fortune hasn't let me down yet.'

'There's a first time for everything, sir.'

'Maybe. Now get 'em moving. And keep up the pace.'

Figulus nodded. 'Same direction?'

Cato thought a moment and looked round at the landscape. 'No. Start heading south, towards that crest there. Once the last man is over it, and out of sight, turn back to the original direction. I'll explain later. Get going.'

While the optio rounded up the exhausted men sitting scattered in the long grass beside the stream, Cato went over to the injured man.

'You're one of Tullius' men, aren't you?'

The legionary looked up. His face was weathered, like old leather, and fringed with thi

'Yes, sir. Vibius Pollius.' The man saluted. He glanced round at the others, on their feet and already moving off. 'You're going to leave me behind, aren't you?'

Cato nodded slowly. 'Sorry. We can't afford to be slowed down. If there was any other way…'

'There ain't. I understand that, sir. No hard feelings.'

Cato squatted down on a nearby slab of rock that rose proud of the rushing stream.

'Look here, Pollius. There's no sign of any pursuit yet. If you go to ground and nurse that ankle, you might be able to find us later. You look like the kind of man I could use. Just keep out of sight until that leg's better. Then head south-west.'

'Thought we were going to hide in the marshes, sir.'

Cato shook his head. 'No. It's not safe. If we get caught by Caratacus' men they'll make the prospect of a quick execution look like a lucky break.'

They shared a quick smile before Cato continued, 'Figulus reckons our chances might be better if we look to the Dumnonians. Seems that some of them are related to Figulus' tribe back in Gaul. He knows a bit of their tongue and might talk 'em into taking us in. Just make sure that you mention his name if you come across any of their tribesmen.'

'I'll do that, sir. Soon as this leg gets better.' Pollius slapped his thigh.

Cato nodded thoughtfully. 'If it doesn't get better…'

'Then I'll have to join you next time round. Don't worry, sir. I won't let them take me alive. You have my word.'

'That's good enough for me, Pollius.' Cato nodded, burning inside with shame at having deceived the unfortunate veteran. 'Just be sure that if they do take you alive, you don't breathe one word about where we're headed. Or Macro's part in this.'

Pollius drew the sword from his belt. 'This'll keep 'em off for a bit. If it doesn't, then I'll be sure to use it so they don't get a chance to make me talk, sir.'

Given that the man was facing an almost certain death, one way or another, Cato weighed his next words carefully. 'By all means defend yourself. But remember, the men who'll be sent to hunt us down will only be soldiers obeying orders. They're not the ones who forced us into this. Do you see what I mean?'

Pollius looked down at his sword, and nodded sadly. 'Never thought I'd ever have to turn this on myself. I always thought falling on your sword was a hobby of your senators and the like.'

'You must be going up in the world.'

'Not from where I'm sitting.'

'Right…I have to go now, Pollius.' Cato grasped the man's spare hand and squeezed it firmly.'I'm sure I'll see you later. A few days from now.'

'Not if I see you first, sir.'

Cato laughed, then stood up and without another word he broke into a run, following Figulus and the others, already a short distance away. He glanced back once, just before the place they had crossed the stream disappeared from view behind a fold in the ground. Pollius had hauled himself up on to the bank above the stream and sat with the point of the sword stuck in the ground between his open legs. He rested both hands on the pommel, and then lowered his chin on to his hands and sat looking back the way they had come. Cato realised at that moment that his attempt at deception had been u

The rain gradually subsided into a light drizzle as the morning wore on, but the gloomy overcast remained in place and denied the fugitives any warming ray of sunshine. Cato and Figulus drove them on, alternately ru

As he trotted on, breathing heavily, and fighting the stitch that stabbed at his side, Cato tried to keep some sense of the passing time. With no sun crossing the sky to mark the passage of the hours he could only roughly estimate their progess, so that it might have been close to noon when they crossed over a low ridge and beheld, barely a mile ahead, the fringe of the vast area of flat land that sprawled towards the distant horizon. The poor light lent the dismal vista an even more gloomy aspect, and the fugitives gazed down on the endless mix of reeds, narrow waterways and scattered hummocks of land, with their stunted trees and thick growths of hawthorn and gorse.

'Not very homely,' Figulus grunted.

Cato had to breathe deeply and compose himself before he could respond. 'No… but it's all we've got. We're going to have to get used to it for a while yet.'

'What then, sir?'

'Then?' Cato chuckled bitterly before he replied in an undertone, 'There probably won't be a then, Figulus. We'll be living from moment to moment, always in danger of being discovered by either side and ending up dead…unless we can win a reprieve.'

'Reprieve?' Figulus snorted. 'How's that going to happen, sir?'

'I'm not sure,' admitted Cato. 'Best not build the men's hopes up too soon. I'll tell you when I've had a chance to think things through in detail. Let's keep moving.'

Ahead on the slope the track forked, one arm bending left, round the edge of the marsh and quickly lost to view in the haze that hung over everything and merged with the patchwork of mist still clinging to the dampest dips and folds in the ground. The other fork followed a track less rutted and worn that led straight into the heart of the marsh.