The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

' So they're still around, then?' mused Centurion Maximius. He looked past Macro, through the tent flap and into the dusk beyond. The sun had just set and he pulled one of the parchment maps across the desk and smoothed it out between himself and Macro. 'This farmstead you were taken to was about… here.'

Macro looked down at the spot the cohort commander indicated and nodded.

'Right. Then we can assume they're somewhere close by. No more than half a day's march, I'd say.'

'Why's that, sir?' asked Macro. He waved his hand across the map in a broad sweep around the tiny sketch that marked the farm's location. 'They could be anywhere.'

'That's true, but not likely.' Maximius smiled. 'Think about it. They're hiding. They won't venture too far simply because they want to avoid natives and Romans alike. They have no access to guides, so they won't be familiar with the paths, and will fear getting themselves lost, or cut off from each other. They'll return to their lair each night, so we can narrow the search to the area around this farm. Assuming it was them who massacred the farmers.'

'Had to be, sir. Injuries were almost certainly caused by short swords. In any case, it's hardly likely that Caratacus and his men would go round bumping off their own people.'

'No…' Maximius tapped his finger on the simple sketch of the farm. 'But it seems a little strange. I didn't have much time to get to know Cato, but massacre, and rape? Doesn't seem like his style.'

'No, it doesn't,' Macro added quietly. 'I don't think he can be responsible for this.'

'Well, somebody was.' The cohort commander looked up.'I thought you knew him well?'

'I thought I did, sir.'

'Could Cato really have done this?'

'No… I don't know… I really don't know. Might have been raiding for food, raised the alarm and then had to mix it with the locals. They got into a fight, and had to put them all to the sword.'

'Is that what it looked like?'

Macro paused a moment to reflect, but after what he had seen at the farm, there was little doubt in his mind. 'No.'

'So Cato, or some of his men, have gone native. Or at least they're pretty desperate. That's good. Should make them easier to deal with, when the time comes.'

Macro raised an eyebrow. 'When the time comes, sir? I thought that was the reason we were here.'

'And so it is!' Maximius laughed lightly. 'Although it has been a good opportunity to teach the locals how to behave.'

Macro stared at him. If the brutality of the last few days was a lesson to the natives, then what exactly had they learned about their new masters? That Rome was as cruel and brutal as any horde of barbarians. That, Macro reflected cynically, was hardly likely to foster good relationships with the locals over that vital period when Roman laws and Roman rule were being established in the new province. The local tribe was getting brutalised by Maximius on the one hand and raided and massacred by Cato and his fugitives on the other. All of which could only strengthen their resolve to aid Caratacus and his warriors. Maximius had done a blinding job of bolstering support for the enemy all right.

And as for Cato… for a moment Macro could not think. He was sure that he had known Cato well, but the massacre at the farm was the work of another kind of man. The two memories did not sit well together. But then again, not much made sense to him at the moment. The decimation of the cohort as punishment for being pushed aside by overwhelming odds. The perverseness of fate for selecting the blameless Cato for execution when it was Maximius who bore the responsibility for the escape of Caratacus. Now this unaccountable cruelty of Maximius towards the natives of this valley, matched only by Cato's heartless slaughter of the farmers and their families. It was as if reason itself had been driven from the world. With a chilling sense of foreboding it occurred to Macro that he lived at the whim of maniacs.

Maniacs like Centurion Maximius, who was gri

'Yes, sir.' Macro cleared his throat uneasily. 'As you say, it's working out well.'

'And once Cato's been seen to, we can attend to Caratacus.'

Macro struggled to hide his astonishment. Tracking down a few pathetic fugitives was one thing. Taking on the likes of Caratacus was just this side of lunacy. A nasty thought abruptly intruded on his surprise, and he looked more closely at his commander and attended his words with a heightened concentration.

Maximius smiled. 'If we can deliver Caratacus to the general, then we'll be allowed to rejoin the legion. We'll be the legate's blue-eyed boys. You and me.'

'What about the others? Tullius, Felix and Antonius?'

'Tullius is an old woman,' Maximius sneered. 'And the others are young fools. Thank the gods they lacked the guile and treachery of that bastard Cato. You're the only one I ever had any confidence in, Macro. Only you.'

'Uh…' Macro flushed. 'Thank you, sir. I'm sure your confidence in me has not been misplaced. But I think you judge the other officers too harshly. They're good men.'

'You think so?' Maximius frowned.'I doubt it. I'm surprised you can't see their faults too, unless… unless you're on their side.'

Macro made himself laugh. 'We're all on the same side, sir.'

Maximius did not respond, and there was a tense pause as the cohort commander scrutinised his subordinate. Then he relaxed a little.'Of course you're right, Macro. Pardon me. I just had to be sure of your loyalty. Now then, on to other business, the real reason you were assigned to lead that patrol. Did you speak to anybody? Did you discover anything about the traitor who freed Cato?'

'Not really, sir. From what I heard it could have been any of the men. No one is particularly happy to be hunting down their comrades, especially when they don't believe they should have been condemned in the first place. Sorry, sir.' Macro shrugged. 'That's all.'

'That's all,' Maximius repeated mockingly. 'That is not all, Centurion. Not by a long way.'

Macro felt the familiar chill of anxiety, and tried not to let his guilt show. 'Sir?'

'If that's how the men feel, then they're as good as traitors themselves.' Maximius grasped his jaw in the palm of a hand and stroked the bristles on his chin nervously, gazing down into his lap. 'If they think they can get away with that, they're in for a great big bloody surprise. I'll show them… It's not the first time I've had to deal with their kind. Oh no, but I showed 'em what I was made of then, and I'll do the same again now. No one's going to make a fool out of me and get away with it.'

Macro kept quite still during and after this outburst, trying not to draw any attention to himself while Maximius perceived threats in every corner. Then the cohort commander glanced up with a small start as he became aware of Macro's presence again. He shook off the spell and smiled warmly.

'You'd best get some rest, Macro. You're going to need it over the next few days if we're going to show those scum we mean business.'

Macro was uncomfortably aware that he was not sure which scum Maximius was referring to and he nodded in response as the cohort commander waved a hand towards the flap of his tent.

Macro quickly rose from his seat, anxious to quit the scene. 'Good night, sir.'

He turned and strode away, ducking outside into the cool evening air, breathing its freshness in eagerly. Two clerks were working on trestle tables to one side of the entrance to the tent. One was filling a lamp with oil, to provide illumination when the last glow from the western horizon had died away. Macro made for the tent lines of his century and as he did so a figure passed him in the twilight. Optio Cordus saluted as he marched by. A few paces further on Macro glanced back over his shoulder, just in time to see the optio enter the cohort commander's tent.