The Eagles Prophecy

Cato turned to the leader. 'You're not taking us to the cells, then?'

The man raised his eyebrows. 'Evidently.' Then he relented and relaxed his stern expression for a moment. 'Look, sir, we were told to take you to Narcissus. That's all the orders we have, as far as you two are concerned.'

'You weren't sent to take us to be executed, then?'

'No, sir. Just to take you to Narcissus. That's all. If he decides you're for the chop, well then, that's different, and we might have to take you to the lads who get that job done.'

'Oh…' Cato looked at the man more closely, wondering how he could be so sanguine about his duties. Maybe the Praetorian had simply become used to it. Cato remembered that under Emperor Caligula the Praetorian Guards had been kept busy arresting and executing people throughout the three years of his reign.

After four flights of stairs they emerged on to a wide corridor with an ornate mosaic pattern flowing across the floor. Large windows, high up, admitted broad shafts of light. Cato had never seen the corridor before and as he felt a warm current of air rise up his legs he realised that the floor must be heated.

Macro pursed his lips.'Our man Narcissus knows how to live well.'

The escorted party marched down the corridor towards an imposing door, almost twice the height of a man. The door was flanked by a pair of Praetorian Guardsmen, and in a niche to the left a clerk sat at a large walnut desk. He was neatly turned out in a soft wool tunic and looked up at the sound of echoing footsteps. The leader of the squad nodded to him.

'Centurions Macro and Cato, as requested by the Imperial Secretary.'

'He's in a meeting with the Emperor. You'll have to wait. Over there.' He pointed across the corridor with his stylus, to where padded benches lined another niche. The party crossed over and the two centurions gratefully lowered their packs, and took a seat. Two guardsmen stood either side of them. In the austere surroundings of the Imperial Secretary's suite of offices, Macro felt self-conscious about his unshaven and battered face. Glancing over at Cato, he saw his friend staring dejectedly at the mosaic floor, wholly absorbed in his misery.

The Imperial Secretary's meeting with Emperor Claudius went on, and on. As the sun rose above the sprawling city, the shafts of light slowly glided down the walls of the corridor and finally bathed the prisoners and their escort in a warm golden glow. Macro eased himself back and shut his eyes, and, despite their predicament, he began to enjoy the soothing sensation of the warmth and the hazy orange glow of the sunlight through his eyelids. So it was that he missed the faint creak of the doors as they swung open. As the guardsmen stiffened to attention, the clerk jumped to his feet and bowed. Cato rose quickly, but before he could stir Macro, the Emperor of Rome and his most faithful and trusted servant, Narcissus, emerged into the corridor.

'S-s-so, you really think it's that important?'

'Yes, Caesar.' Narcissus nodded to emphasise his agreement. 'It is a vital component of the work. Without it, posterity will be forever impoverished.'

Emperor Claudius looked at him wide-eyed, and there was a violent twitch of his head.'Really? You r-really think so?'

'Yes, Caesar. Without question.'

'Well, put like that, w-w-what can I say? I had thought that my ch-ch-ch-childhood poetry might not be quite the ticket for an autobiography.' He smiled, twitched, and squeezed Narcissus' arm. 'But you've convinced me. As ever, your good t-t-taste and sound judgement are a perfect complement to my genius.'

'Caesar.' Narcissus bowed low.'Your praise is undeserved. Any mortal with any literary sensibility at all could not mistake the divine brilliance of your powers of perception and description.'

Claudius beamed and clasped Narcissus' arm in gratitude, then froze as he spied Macro, nodding off on his bench. 'I somehow doubt that f-fellow shares your point of view.'

Narcissus glared into the niche and snapped an order. 'Get that fool on his feet!'

Two guardsmen took an arm each and hauled Macro up. He opened his eyes blearily. 'What? What? Oh…'

At the sight of the Emperor he was instantly awake and stood straight as a marble pillar. Claudius limped over towards him and looked the centurion over.

'Is this one of the men you were telling me about, Narcissus?'

'Yes, Caesar.'

'Hardly an impressive sp-sp-sp-specimen, I must say. But he looks like the sort of man we might sacrifice without losing much s-sleep.'

'Yes, Caesar. Once again you anticipate my thoughts.'

Claudius turned to Cato, with a look of surprise. 'And this other one, this boy? Surely he's not the other officer you mentioned. Why, h-h-he doesn't look old enough to even shave!'

Narcissus forced a laugh, and when his clerk followed his cue the Emperor turned round with a frown.'No one asked you to join in!'

The clerk froze, and blanched, dropping his eyes at once.

'That's better.' The Emperor turned back to continue his examination of the two centurions. 'I suppose you know what you're d-d-doing, Narcissus. That other business we talked about will need careful handling. Are you sure the-the-these men are up to the job?'

'If they aren't, then no one is, Caesar.'

'Very well… I'll see you at di

'Caesar.' Narcissus bowed again, as did the Praetorians, his secretary and the two centurions. They kept their heads down as Claudius shuffled away down the corridor and disappeared into a side gallery. The moment the Emperor was out of sight there was a collective sigh of released tension. Macro felt as if he had escaped instant execution by a hair's breadth and the blood pounded through his heart.

Narcissus glanced at the two centurions and snapped an order. 'Bring them in!'

He turned on his heel and strode back into his office as Cato and Macro grabbed their yokes and, flanked by the guardsmen, they were escorted through the high doorway into the office of the Imperial Secretary.

The room was vast. Above, the ceiling rose to the same height as the corridor, and the floor was covered with animal skins, through which the heat of the hypocaust could still be felt. To the right stretched a wall made up of a honeycomb of shelving for scrolls and books. To the left, the wall was covered with a finely detailed painting of a huge bay that stretched out into the distance where it was lost in a faint haze. Looming over the coastal strip was a vast mountain, dwarfing the towns that lined the shores at its feet. On the far wall were four large windows, with spectacular views over the Forum and the sprawling slopes of the Subura beyond. Narcissus had crossed the room and settled himself behind an oak desk whose size was proportionate to the room, if not to the amount of paperwork upon it, which struggled to look burdensome. The Imperial Secretary noticed the admiring looks on the faces of the two centurions as they gazed out over the city, fascinated to see so much of it at once.

'Impressive, isn't it?' he smiled. 'It is the first thing that people who visit this office remark on. I find it inspiring and, at the same time, frightening. Terrifying even.'

He twisted away from Cato and Macro to stare out of the window, and continued in the same reflective tone, 'The Empire is ruled from here. From this palace. The palace is the mind that directs the muscles and sinews of empire. Down there, in the Forum, is the public expression of that power. The fine temples to scores of Gods. The basilicas where the fortunes of men are made and traded, and regulated by law. People from all over the world come to the Forum to marvel at the scale of our achievement. Together, the palace and Forum constitute a shrine to power and order.' He paused and raised a hand, pointing across to the rising slope of the Subura, a filthy mass of tile and plaster, poised like a wave about to crash down upon the Forum.