The Eagles Prophecy

'Well, if you insist.'

'I do. All right? Now let's change the subject.'

Cato could see that his friend would not budge on the issue. Not right now, at least. Perhaps Macro could be persuaded to be more reasonable over time; a few carefully chosen words here and there and their posting to the marines might be less of an unpleasant experience. If Narcissus was right, then this mission was going to be dangerous enough for Cato and Macro without having to worry about the loyalty of the men around them.

Cato leaned forward, adjusted the weight of the yoke on his shoulder, and marched on in silence. The Flaminian Way began to incline as it met a low ridge to the north of the capital. As the road evened out, Cato stepped off the road into the shade of a copse of tall cypress trees and set his pack down for a moment. Macro strode on a few paces, then paused, and reluctantly trudged off the paved surface and joined his friend.

'Not tired already?'

'A bit,' Cato admitted. 'I'm out of training for route marches.'

'Really?' Macro smirked. 'I'll make a marine of you yet.'

'Very fu

Cato looked at his friend. For Macro it was different. He survived in the gritty world of immediate details and focused on the challenges right in front of him. It was an enviable perspective, Cato felt – one that he wished he could develop for himself. He spent far too much time thinking about abstract issues. In the legions that could cost lives, he reflected, and the abyss of self-doubt that plagued him yawned once more. Now that he was a centurion he was more conscious than ever about his failings, and yearned for the verities of the life that he assumed Macro enjoyed.

'If you've had enough of the scenery,' Macro broke into his thoughts, 'would you mind if we got on?'

'Right.' Cato pushed the stopper back into his canteen, took a deep breath and heaved the pack back on to his shoulders. 'I'm ready. Let's go.'

As the afternoon wore on, the scattered clouds thickened and blotted out the sky, eventually concealing the sun itself behind a miserable curtain of a dirty grey haze. As the centurions marched further from Rome and left the immediate belt of farms and factories that fed their wares into the capital, the traffic began to thin out. The slopes of the surrounding hills were more forested and there were fewer farms and other buildings. As dusk began to gather it started to rain; icy drops that stung the skin and quickly soaked the two centurions. Macro and Cato stopped at a small roadside tavern and bought two cups of heated wine while they got out their waterproofed capes and draped them over their shoulders.

Cato looked out through the curtain of drips that splattered down from the thatched shelter that gave out on to the road. 'This isn't going to pass quickly. How much further to Ocriculum?'

Macro thought a moment. 'Three hours.'

'It'll be dark in three hours.'

'Sooner than that with this weather.'

Cato glanced back at the i

Macro shook his head. 'I'm not paying to stay here when there's decent barracks just down the road. Besides, if we stay we'll have to push it to catch up with the column in the morning. No point in that. Drink up, and let's go.'

Cato shot him an angry look, then relented. It would be easier to endure a wet and discomforted Macro for the next few hours than put up with his grumbling for the rest of the night and the following morning. With a sigh of resignation he downed the rest of his cup, savouring the warm glow in his belly, and then shouldered his pack and trudged out of the i

A mile down the road, the air momentarily turned a blinding white, and almost at once their ears were deafened by a crashing roll of thunder.

Cato winced and called out to Macro, 'We should find shelter!'

His words were drowned out by a fresh detonation in the heavens and Cato trotted forward a few steps and grabbed Macro's shoulder. 'Let's find shelter!'

'What?' Macro gri

'A bit of rain?'

'Sure. What's the matter? You gone soft from too much city living or something?'

'No.'

'Well, come on then!' Macro shouted back above the din, and turned round and strode away.

Cato stared at him a moment, then with a shrug of resignation he set off in his friend's footsteps. The thunder grumbled above and echoed off the slopes of the surrounding hills. And so they never heard the clatter of horses' hoofs and the grind of the carriage wheels until the small mounted party was almost upon them. They came out of the dusk at speed, right behind the two centurions, and Cato just had time to turn, see the danger and throw himself to one side with a shouted warning to Macro as the cloaked horsemen swerved their mounts at the last instant. Macro leaped off the road and crashed into the drainage ditch a short distance from Cato. Above them flitted the shapes of two horsemen, a team of horses, drawing a light covered coach, and then two more horsemen. They ignored the two travellers they had driven from the road and clattered on without stopping.

'Oi!' Macro raised himself up on one arm.'You bastards!'

His words were lost in the storm and moments later the gloom had swallowed up the coach and its escort, as Macro continued to hurl abuse after them. Cato raised himself up from the mud and retrieved his pack before going to help Macro. Once both men were back on the road, soaked and filthy, Macro calmed down a little.

'You all right, Cato?'

'Fine.'

'If we catch up with those bastards I'll give them a hiding they won't forget in a hurry.'

'We won't catch them. Not at the rate they're going.'

Macro glared down the road. 'Maybe they'll shelter for the night at Ocriculum. Then we'll see what's what.'

'Come on then, or we'll never get there.'

They raised their drenched packs and continued along the road, glistening in the teeming downpour.

Night came, swallowing up the last vestiges of daylight almost without them being aware of it, so dark had the storm become. They did not reach Ocriculum for nearly another two hours, and emerged into the wavering glow of covered torches at the town gate looking like beggars, drenched and streaked with mud from their tumble into the drainage ditch.

The gatekeeper slowly rose from a sheltered bench inside the lofty arch and stuck his thumbs into the top of his belt.

'Well, well, well,' he gri

'Get stuffed.' Macro growled. 'And let us through.'

'Now then.' The gatekeeper frowned and slid his right hand round towards the pommel of his sword.'No need for that. You pay your dues and you can enter the town. Otherwise…' He nodded back down the road.