The Eagles Prey

'You can rely on the Third, sir. We won't let you down.'

'I'm counting on that,' Vespasian smiled. 'That's why you were picked for the job. It's nothing a former officer of the Praetorian Guard can't handle. Remember, not one of them must be permitted to cross the river. We must a

Cato looked round in the hope that someone else had raised an arm. When he saw that the rest of the centurions were sitting impassively, he swallowed nervously and raised his hand.

'Sir?'

'Yes, Centurion Cato.'

'What if the enemy force their way across one of the fords, sir? How will the other detachments know?'

'I've assigned two of our mounted squadrons to my command, and one each to Sextus and Maximius. If anything goes wrong we can alert the others and, if need be, the legion can fall back towards this position under cover of darkness. Let's just make sure it doesn't come to that. See to your defences and make sure your men give of their best. The advantage will be ours. We'll have the element of surprise and for the first time their confounded speed over the ground will work in our favour as they hurry towards these fords. If we do our job well the new province is as good as won, and all that remains is to clear up a few last nests of resistance. Then we can concentrate on dividing up the spoils.'

There was a murmur of approval at this last comment, and Cato saw the eyes of the men seated alongside him light up at the prospect of receiving their share of the booty. As centurions, they stood to make a tidy sum out of the money raised from the sale into slavery of the men they had taken prisoner over the last year. All the land seized fell into the hands of the imperial secretariat, whose agents stood to make vast fortunes from sales commissions. The system for the division of booty was a source of bitter contention amongst the men of the legions when they were drinking, and the unequal shares of legionaries and centurions ensured that the far greater inequality of fortunes between centurions and imperial land agents was generally overlooked.

'Any further questions?' asked Vespasian. There was a moment's stillness before the legate turned to his camp prefect. 'Very well. Sextus, you may dismiss them.'

The officers rose from their stools and snapped to attention. Once the legate had left the tent Sextus stood them down. The camp prefect reminded them to collect their written orders from the general's secretaries as they left headquarters. As the centurions of the Third Cohort stood up, Maximius raised a hand.

'Not so fast, lads. I want a word with you in my tent, soon as you've set the evening watch.'

Macro and Cato exchanged looks, which was instantly detected by Maximius. 'I'm sure my new centurions will be relieved to know that I won't be keeping them too long, and wasting their precious time.'

Cato coloured.

Maximius regarded the youth coldly for a moment before his face creased into a smile. 'Just make sure you're both in my tent before the first change of watch is sounded.'

'Yes, sir,' replied Cato and Macro.

Maximius gave a sharp nod, turned on his heel and strode stiffly from the briefing tent.

Macro's eyes followed their commander.'Now what was all that about?'

The nearest of the centurions drew back, glancing warily at Maximius until the cohort commander had disappeared through the tent flaps. Then he spoke quietly to Macro and Cato.

'I'd play it carefully, if I were you two.'

'Carefully?' Macro frowned. 'What are you talking about, Tullius?'

Caius Tullius was the most senior of the Third Cohort's centurions after Maximius; a veteran of over twenty years and several campaigns. Although he was reserved in ma

'Tullius?' Macro prompted.

For a moment Tullius hesitated, mouth open as he seemed to be on the verge of saying something. Then he just shook his head. 'It's nothing. Just try not to get on the wrong side of Maximius. Especially you, young 'un.'

Cato's lips compressed into a tight line, and Macro couldn't help laughing.

'Don't be so touchy, Cato. Centurion you may be, but you'll have to forgive people if they mistake you for a boy sometimes.'

'Boys don't get to wear these,' Cato snapped back, and tapped his medallions, instantly regretting the immature need to prove himself.

Macro raised both his hands with a placating smirk. 'All right! I'm sorry. But look around, Cato. See anyone else here that's within five years of your age? I think you'll find that you're a bit of an exception.'

'Exception he may be,' Tullius added quietly, 'but he'd do well not to stand out, if he knows what's good for him.'

The veteran turned away and followed Felix and Antonius towards the entrance to the tent. Macro watched him go and scratched his chin.

'Wonder what he meant?'

'Can't you guess?' Cato muttered bitterly.'Seems our cohort commander thinks I'm not up to the job.'

'Rubbish!' Macro punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'Everyone in the legion knows about you. You've got nothing to prove to anyone.'

'Tell Maximius that.'

'I might. One day. If he doesn't recognise it himself first.'

Cato shook his head. 'Maximius only joined the legion a few months back, in that batch of replacements that arrived while we were in hospital in Calleva. Chances are he knows next to nothing about me.'

Macro prodded one of Cato's medallions.'These should tell him all he needs to know. Now come on, we've got to post our watches. Wouldn't want to be late for Maximius' briefing, would we?'

05 The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER FIVE

Once Cato was satisfied that his optio had the watch organised, he marched through two rows of tents to Macro's century and stuck his head through the flap of the largest tent at the end of the line. Macro was sitting at a small trestle table, examining some tablets by the wan glow of an oil lamp.

'Ready?'

Macro looked up, and then pushed the wax tablets to one side. He rose from his chair and strode over to Cato. 'Yes. I've had enough of this. Bloody pay records. Sometimes I wish you were still my optio. Made the record-keeping side of things a lot easier. I could get on with the real job then.'

Cato nodded in sympathy. Life had indeed been easier before, for both of them. With Macro as his centurion Cato's introduction to army life had been unclouded by the need to take much responsibility on his own shoulders. There had been times when circumstances had forced command on him, and he had coped with such duties, but had always been relieved to hand the burden back to Macro afterwards. That was all gone, now that he was a centurion. Not only did Cato feel constantly judged by others, he sat in judgement of himself. Cato was not impressed by the image of the thin and boyish figure in a centurion's uniform he knew he presented.

'How's Figulus coping?' Macro asked as they made for the large square tent that marked the headquarters of the Third Cohort.'Can't see why you chose him to be your optio. Outside of a straight fight the lad's a bloody nuisance.'

'He's coping well enough.'

'Oh, really?' Macro said with a trace of amusement. 'Handling the pay records on his own then? That, and all the other clerical crap?'