The Eagles Prey

At length Caratacus looked up, and rubbed his face. 'Centurion, I'm tired. I ca

He called out for the guard and the man who had escorted Cato from the pen ducked into the hut. The king indicated, with a brief nod of his head, that he had finished with the Roman, and Cato was roughly hauled to his feet and shoved out into the darkness. He glanced back, and before the leather curtain slipped back across the entrance he had one final sight of the king: leaning forward, his head cradled in his hands, locked in a posture of solitude and despair.

05 The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

' He'll get us all killed.' Centurion Tullius nodded towards the cohort commander. Maximius was briefing the optios in charge of the day's patrols. Each officer commanded twenty men and had a native assigned to them to act as a guide. Every one of them was a prisoner, iron collars chained to the belt of legionary guards. Since their children were being held hostage it was unlikely that they would offer any resistance, or attempt to escape or betray their Roman masters. But Maximius was taking no chances. He had few enough men as it was. Centurion Tullius tapped his vine cane against the side of his greave, making a dull clattering noise. Macro glanced down irritably.

'Do you mind?'

'What? Oh, sorry!' Tullius lifted the cane, tucked it under his arm and glanced back towards the cohort commander. 'I thought we were here to find Cato and the others. Had no idea we were going to try and stir up a bloody revolt as well. Couldn't have done a better job if he had tried…the bastard.'

'Perhaps that's just what he's been ordered to do,' Macro wondered aloud.

'What do you mean?'

Macro shrugged. 'I'm not really sure. Not yet. Just seems to be an odd way to get the locals to help us.'

'Odd?' The old centurion shook his head. 'You weren't there when we ran those natives down by the river. He really lost his head.' Tullius lowered his voice. 'He was like a man possessed – wild, dangerous and cruel. He should never have been given a command. As long as he's ru

Macro swallowed nervously and stiffened his back. 'I'd be careful what I said if I was you. He's dangerous, all right, but so is that kind of talk.'

Tullius looked closely at the other centurion.'You do think he's dangerous then?'

'He might be. But you really scare me. What are you suggesting, Tullius? A sharp dagger in his back on a dark night?'

Tullius gave a short, unconvincing, laugh.'It's happened before.'

'Oh, yes,' Macro snorted,'I know. And I also know what can happen to the men of those units that are held responsible. I don't fancy ending my days in some imperial mine. And what if he was killed? You'd be in command.' Macro gave the other man a hard stare. 'Frankly, I don't think you're up to the job.'

Tullius looked down before Macro could see the pained expression in his eyes. 'You're probably right… I could have done it once, years ago. But I was never given the chance.'

Quite, thought Macro, and his lips curled in contempt.

Tullius looked up. 'Macro, you could take command.'

'No.'

'Why not? I'm sure the men would follow you. I'd follow you.'

'I said no.'

'All we need to do is make sure that Maximius' death doesn't look suspicious.'

Macro's hand shot out and grabbed the older man by the shoulder. He shook Tullius to emphasise his words. 'I said no. Got that? One more word out of you and I'll hand you over to Maximius myself. I'll even volunteer for the job of executioner.' He let his hand slip back to his side. 'Don't ever talk to me about this again.'

'But why?'

'Because he's our commander. It's not our job to question him, just obey his orders.'

'And if he gives us orders that'll get us killed? What then?'

'Then…' Macro shrugged, 'then we die.'

Tullius looked at him with a startled expression. 'You're as mad as he is.'

'Maybe. But we're soldiers, not senators. We're here to do as we're told and fight – there's no debating the issue. That's what we signed up to when we joined the Eagles. We swore an oath, you and me. That's all there is to it.'

Tullius stared at him, then jabbed a finger into Macro's chest. 'Then you are mad.'

'Gentlemen!'

They both turned round in alarm at the sound of Maximius' voice. He had finished his briefing and started towards them without the two officers being aware of their superior's approach. At the sight of their surprised and alarmed expressions a frown flitted over Maximius' face before he smiled genially.

'You two look like you're about to knock seven shades out of each other!'

Tullius forced out a weak laugh, and Macro made himself smile as the older centurion replied,'A minor disagreement, sir. No more than that.'

'Good. What were you disagreeing about?'

'Nothing really, sir. Nothing worth mentioning.'

'I'll be the judge of that.' Maximius smiled again. 'So tell me.'

Tullius glanced at Macro and flapped a hand in the air between them. 'A difference of opinion, sir, a professional difference of opinion. I was saying that we'd have finished the enemy off a lot sooner if we'd had some of the Praetorian Guard units fighting alongside us.'

'I see.' Maximius looked searchingly at his subordinate's expression before turning to look at Macro. 'And what does Centurion Macro think?'

'He thinks the Guard are a bunch of idle wasters, sir,' Tullius chipped in before Macro could respond.

Maximius raised a hand. 'Quiet. I think Macro can speak for himself. Well, what do you think?'

Macro shot Tullius a withering glance before he replied, acutely bitter at the situation Tullius had forced on him. 'They're good men, sir. Good men, but, er, they must go soft after spending too long in Rome… sir.'

'And you think the men of the legions are a tougher proposition then?'

Macro shrugged his shoulders helplessly. 'Well, yes, sir. I suppose so… yes.'

'Bollocks!' Maximius spat back. 'There's no comparison. Your Guardsman is the finest soldier in the Empire, bar none. I should know. I served with them long enough. Tullius is right. If Claudius had left a few of 'em behind when he buggered off back to Rome last year, it'd all be over by now. The Guard would have sorted Caratacus out in double time.' He glared at Macro, breathing hard through flared nostrils. 'I thought an officer with your experience would have known that. There's no comparison between a Guardsman and your bog-standard legionary.'

'Yes, sir.' Macro coloured. He was tempted to defend himself. To answer back and justify the words Tullius had put in his mouth. To tell Maximius about the balls-up at the battle outside Camulodunum a year earlier that had nearly cost his vaunted Guards their lives. But Macro could not trust himself to continue the discussion: once his spirit of defiance was up there was no telling how indiscreet he would become. Best to let the cohort commander's umbrage wash over him like one of the flotsam-bloated waves that rolled over the shore at his childhood home just outside Ostia. Macro stiffened his back and stared into his superior's face. 'As you say, sir. There's no comparison.'