The Eagles Prophecy

Cato dipped his head in formal acknowledgement of the other man's rank, and he replied in an unusually cool voice, 'Tribune Vitellius, I wondered if we would meet again.'

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER SEVEN

'What the hell was that bastard Vitellius doing there?' Macro grumbled as he shifted his pack and adjusted his stride.'I hoped I'd never lay eyes on him ever again, after that business back in Britain. Just goes to show. When you've really fallen in the shit, you can always count on someone to pile on another load.'

Cato grunted his assent at his friend's quirky fatalism. Life was like that. He'd already seen enough of it to know. Macro was right to be worried. The fact that the man had been waiting to see Narcissus immediately after them implied some kind of co

The revival of this danger added to his existing fears, and Cato could not shake Vitellius from his mind as he and Macro trudged along the Flaminian Way. Even though it was a cold day, and a chilly breeze cut through the air, there were only patches of cloud in the crisp blue sky. After the first mile on the road, the exercise had warmed their muscles and Cato no longer shivered. They had left Rome at noon, pausing at the Sanqualian Gate to fill their canteens, and only with the walls of the city falling behind them had Macro felt safe enough to speak his mind. On either side of the broad paved road, tombs and mausoleums jostled with more modest memorials to the generations of the dead who had been buried outside the walls of the city.

The traffic on the Flaminian Way was heavy, with a constant stream of wagons and carts loaded down with farm produce, goods and luxuries heading for the great markets of the capital. Trundling in the opposite direction were empty vehicles. The two centurions marched past as swiftly as possible to catch up with the reinforcement column that had left the city hours before and was well on the way to Ocriculum. The column would make good time as traffic would clear the way for them as they passed, whereas the two centurions, being far less conspicuous, would have to weave their way through the other road users.

'We're not going to catch them before nightfall,' Cato grumbled. 'Not at this rate.'

'We might,' Macro replied, glancing over his shoulder at Cato. 'If we can keep the pace up. Come on, lad, no dawdling.'

Cato gritted his teeth and lengthened his stride, until he drew alongside his friend. 'You ever had any dealings with the marines before?'

'Marines?' Macro spat on the ground. 'Yes, I've come across a few. On the Rhine squadron. They used to take leave in Argentorate, same as us legionaries. Idle wankers, the lot of them. Spent all their time dossing about on the decks of their ships while we got on with the real soldiering.'

Cato smiled. 'I take it there's no love lost between legionaries and marines.'

'None,' Macro replied emphatically. 'We were at each other's throats from the off.'

'You do surprise me. Still, now we've got a posting to the marines, we'd better forgive and forget, eh?'

'Forgive and forget?' Macro raised his eyebrows. 'Fuck that! I just hate the bastards. Every legionary does. Mark my words, there's no such thing as a good marine. Idlers, wasters and the scrapings of the street. Anyone with any worth has upped and joined the legions. We'll have to cope with the leavings.'

'Not looking forward to a bit of drilling then?'

'Cato, my lad, there's drilling and then there's the kind of chaotic scrabbling about that is the specialism of your average marine.'

'So, when it comes to soldiering, they're all at sea?'

Macro closed his eyes briefly. 'Cato, that's the kind of crack that ruins friendships.'

'Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.'

'Well, don't. All right? Things are hard enough for the pair of us without you trying to joke about it.'

'Fair enough.' Cato glanced up as a column of wagons ground by on the other side of the road. Each wagon carried several men, well-muscled and looking at the peak of physical fitness. He nudged Macro. 'Could do with a few more like them in the legions.'

Macro looked round. 'Them? Gladiators. No, they're the last thing you want in the army. They think they know all that there is to know about fighting. That it's all down to fancy footwork and a nimble blade. Your bog-standard barbarian would knock 'em flat while they were still out to win points for style. Gladiators…' Macro shook his head wearily. 'So far up their own arses they hardly see the light of day from one month to the next. If you want someone at your shoulder that you can rely on, pick a legionary every time. And, if you can't find a legionary, then an auxiliary will do.'

Cato stared at him. 'You've really got it in for the marines, haven't you? Any particular reason? One of them run off with your sister, or something?'

Macro shot a look at his friend.'Sister? No. Much closer than that. My mother.'

'Your mother?'

Macro nodded. 'A trireme turned up at Ostia for refitting. Crew came ashore for a few days. One of the smooth bastards chats my mum up and she drops the rest of us in the shit and sails off into the bloody sunset with her marine and is never seen again. I was not much more than a kid at the time. That was twenty years ago.'

Cato was stu

'Have I ever lied to you?'

Cato shrugged helplessly. 'Well, yes. Frequently, as it happens. Soldiers' stories and all that. "The barbarian that got away", that kind of thing.'

'Oh.' Macro pursed his lips. 'This one's true. So I hate marines,' he concluded simply.

Cato felt a heavy weight settle on his heart. If Macro carried such prejudices with him all the way to Rave

Cato tried to reason with his friend.'Don't you think it's a bit harsh to judge them all by the conduct of one?'

'No.'

Cato hissed with frustration. 'That's hardly fair.'

'What's fairness got to do with it? One of the bastards ran off with my mum. Now the boot's on the other foot and I'm going to stick it to them. And I'll have none of your nonsense about fairness.'

'Prejudice never solved anything,' Cato replied calmly.

'Bollocks! Which one of your fancy philosophers came up with that? Prejudice solves everything, and quickly too. As long as you've got the balls to see it through. How else do you think we got ourselves an empire? Through playing fair with a bunch of hairy-arsed barbarians? Think we talked 'em into throwing down their weapons and surrendering their lands? No. We regarded them as ignorant and uncivilised. All of them. And rightly so, in my opinion. Made kicking their heads in a lot easier at the end of the day. You start arguing with yourself about the pros and cons of their point of view and you'll be dead in a flash. Act as you find and life becomes simpler, and longer, probably. So, Cato, spare me your feelings about fairness, eh? If I want to hate marines, that's up to me. Makes my life easy. You want to cosy up to them, then that's up to you. But leave me out of it.'