The Eagles Prey

'Sir, for pity's sake, hear me out!'

'Centurion!' Maximius spat. 'Silence that prisoner!'

'Caratacus is coming!' Cato managed to get out before Tullius jumped towards him and slapped him hard across the jaw. For a moment Cato was dazed by the blow, then he tasted blood and felt his mouth fill up with a thick gout. He dropped his head to one side and spat it out, before he shouted out one last warning.

'Don't-'

Tullius raised his fist.

'All right,' Cato mumbled. 'All right. What did he mean about Macro?'

Tullius looked over his shoulder, and saw that Maximius was taking the sentries to task, bawling out a diatribe against sloppy watch-keeping. Tullius turned back to Cato.

'Macro's under arrest.'

'Arrest?' For a moment Cato was struck by the dreadful thought that his friend's role in the prisoners' escape had been discovered, and, for what it was worth, he tried to bluff it out. 'What's he been arrested for?'

'Macro refused an order to carry out reprisals on the natives.'

'Reprisals?'

'Yesterday six of your men were butchered, right in front of us. Maximius ordered Macro to kill sixty villagers in return. He refused. So, Maximius placed him under arrest and handed his century over to an optio, Cordus, a right nasty piece of work, who was only too happy to carry out the order.'

Cato looked at him. 'You're serious?'

'Deadly. But quiet now!' For an instant Tullius leaned closer to whisper. 'We'll talk later. Too many ears close by.'

They marched on in silence, until they reached the lean-to shack that sat over the fort's latrine cha

'Get in.'

Cato looked down into the disgusting dark sludge below and shook his head. 'No.'

Tullius sighed, and turned to the escort, but Cato grasped him by the arm.

'We saw the heads down by the track leading into the marsh. What's been going on here?' Cato could see the older man was wavering. 'Tell me.'

Tullius glanced round nervously before he replied.'All right. He's like a madman – Maximius. He's been slaughtering the natives like he was on piece work.' Tullius rubbed his chin. 'Never seen anything like it. It's as if the man's possessed… mad. That's what Macro reckoned. Like Maximius was taking revenge on the locals for all the shit that's happened to the Third Cohort.'

'Maybe,' Cato replied, and paused a moment in thought. 'But I wonder why the legate sent the cohort here. Has to be more to it than just hunting us down.'

'What are you saying?'

'Think about it. We lost contact with Caratacus. The general had to find some way to lure him out into the open. Now it's happening.'

'But how could the general know that Maximius would go crazy and provoke Caratacus into an attack? He couldn't have known.'

'Yes he could…if he ordered Maximius to start slaughtering the locals.'

Tullius shook his head.'No. There's no method in what he's been doing. Just madness.'

'He is mad,' Cato affirmed,'if he doesn't get ready to prepare for the attack. By the end of the day, Caratacus and thousands of his men will arrive in front of the ramparts. They're bent on revenge, and they'll take this place by storm and slaughter everyone in it. We won't stand a chance.'

Tullius stared at Cato, struggling to hide his fear, and the young officer pushed home his advantage.

'There is only one way out of this for the cohort. Only one way I can see. But it's no good unless I, we, can persuade Maximius.'

'No!' Centurion Tullius shook his head. 'He won't listen. And he'll make sure I suffer for even talking to you like this. Get in the hole!'

'For fuck's sake!' Cato tightened his grip and pulled the older man round to face him. The legionaries reached for their swords. 'Listen to me!'

Tullius raised his spare hand. 'Easy, lads!'

Cato nodded his thanks, and continued in a desperate whisper.'You're a bloody veteran, Tullius, and those medallions on your harness weren't given to you for book-keeping, or covering your arse. If you haven't got the balls to stand up to Maximius, then at least let me have a go.' Still staring into the older man's eyes, Cato relaxed his grip and gave the arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. 'We're talking about more than one man's life here. If Maximius doesn't listen, we're all dead. You can make a difference, right now.'

'How?'

'Dismiss this escort. Then take me to his tent. Send someone for Macro. He can meet us there. We have to talk Maximius round. Before it's too late. Now, dismiss these men and hear me out.'

Cato could see the hesitation in the other man's expression and leaned closer. 'We can survive this. Better still, we can come out of it with honour. Best of all, we should be able to finish Caratacus off once and for all.'

'How?' Tullius asked.'Tell me how.'

05 The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Half an hour later, Cato eased himself under the back of Maximius' tent. He glanced round and was relieved to see that the place was empty; the clerks were on the morning inspection with the cohort commander. Cato held the leather flap up and beckoned to Nepos. The legionary scrambled under and moved over so that his centurion could still see Tullius.

'All's clear. I'll wait for you in here, sir. You'd better get Macro now.'

It felt odd to be giving the veteran orders, and Cato realised that it would be best to preserve some sense of the proper code of behaviour if he were to keep Tullius on his side. The old centurion might be well past his prime, and his nerves were clearly worn down, but he still had the sense to see what needed to be done. Cato knew he must have every ally he could win over before he dared to confront Centurion Maximius.

Tullius nodded. 'Right. Just you stay out of sight, young Cato.'

Cato nodded and let the leather drop back to the ground. Glancing round he saw the cohort commander's personal chest. A red cloak was folded over the side and leaning against it was a sword. It was not the finely crafted sword he habitually wore,just the standard issue, with a handle worn glassy and smooth with age. Cato smiled. It must be a relic from Maximius' days as a legionary, now just a keepsake. A most useful keepsake. Cato quietly drew the blade and then flipped the corner of the cloak over the top of the scabbard to conceal the sword's absence.

He passed the sword to Nepos. 'Take this, and then hide yourself over there, just inside his sleeping quarters. You stay there, and keep silent. Only come out if I call for you. Understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Now go.'

As Nepos padded away Cato glanced round for a hiding place for himself and then turned back to the chest. It had high sides and had been positioned out of the way at the rear of the tent. Treading softly round the chest he lowered himself behind it and settled down to wait for Maximius to return with his officers. It was fortunate, Cato reflected, that the routine of the Roman legions was immutable. The cohort commander would return to his tent for the morning briefing of his officers just as certainly as night followed day.

Outside the tent the sounds of the legionaries going about their duties was familiar and reassuring after the anxious days Cato had spent hiding in the marsh. Not for the first time he felt that the legion had become his home, and for as long as he lived he would only ever feel safe and secure while he was in its embrace.