The Eagles Prophecy

'Yes, sir.'

Vitellius waved a hand at his bodyguards. 'Get up and leave us alone. Make sure my friends and I are not disturbed.'

The guards saluted and hurriedly made for another table nearby, yet not so near as to permit them to overhear what was said between Vitellius and the two centurions.

'Sit down please, gentlemen.' Vitellius waved at the vacant bench.

Macro shook his head. 'No thank you, sir.'

'That wasn't a request, Centurion. Now sit down. Both of you.'

With a pause just long enough to mark their distaste and a measure of defiance, Macro and Cato took their seats. Vitellius smiled at them and then eased himself down on the bench opposite. The barman arrived with the drinks and poured the wine into three silvered goblets, before setting the jar down on the table and leaving them to their discussion.

Macro spoke first. 'What are you doing here, sir?'

'I'm on my way to take up my next appointment.'

'Appointment?' Macro frowned. 'You're returning to active service? Which legion is going to be cursed by your treachery this time, Tribune?'

'Tribune?' Vitellius put on a shocked expression. 'What makes you think I'm resuming that rank? I've moved on to bigger and better things now that Claudius himself is my patron.'

Macro leaned forward and lowered his voice.'If he knew how far you had conspired against him…'

'Well, he doesn't. And he's never going to find out, gentlemen. He has complete trust in me, and so does Narcissus. So don't start getting any ideas about telling them any stories. You'd never be believed, and I assure you the consequences would be far worse for you than for me. Do we understand each other, gentlemen?'

Macro nodded slowly. 'Fair enough, sir. So tell me, what are you doing here?'

'Like I said, I'm on my way to take up a new appointment. '

'Where's that then?'

'Really, Centurion, we're going to have to work a little harder at formalities. Especially as I am about to become the new prefect in command of the fleet at Rave

'You?' Cato stared back, open-mouthed. 'It can't be true.'

'It is. I assure you. Granted, I have no experience of naval operations, but I can rely on others for that. My real mission is far more vital, and I'll need every measure of cooperation from you two to see it through. I want that understood.'

Cato rubbed his brow. 'You're the one Narcissus told us about.'

'I am. From now on, you two are under my command. Both as officers attached to the fleet, and also as agents acting for Narcissus. I'll be watching you closely. If you give me any cause to doubt your loyalty to the Emperor, and to me, I'll have to report back to Narcissus. And we know what that means, don't we? A short interview with the palace interrogators and a nasty, obscure death. You won't be missed, I can assure you. Meanwhile, your lives are in my hands, gentlemen. Serve me well and you'll live. I'll come out of it something of a hero. You'll have your lives. You can't have everything. But I can, and one day I will. On that day, you had better be on my side.'

'I can't believe this,' Macro muttered to Cato.

'We'd better,' Cato replied, struggling to hide his anxiety. 'He's quite serious.'

Vitellius smiled. 'Your little friend has it right, Macro. Now that we understand the situation, and each other, I think it's time for a little toast.' Vitellius picked up the jug and filled each of their goblets to the brim. Then he raised his and smiled at them across the glimmering surface. 'Gentlemen, I give you partnership! At last, it seems, we are on the same side.'

He raised the goblet and drained it steadily, his eyes fixed on the two centurions. When he had finished he set the cup down and gazed at the two goblets standing untouched on the table in front of Macro and Cato. He smiled.

'As you wish, gentlemen. I'll indulge your insolence on this occasion. But mark my words well. The next time you give me one shred of defiance or discourtesy, you'll pay for it.'

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER NINE

The column assembled in the yard at dawn. A centurion, assisted by a team of optios, had been appointed to lead the marines across to Rave

'Not exactly an impressive bunch, are they?'

Cato shrugged. 'No better or worse than the batch I joined the Second Legion with.'

'And you can tell, of course.' Macro shook his head. 'Trust me, Cato. I've seen 'em come and go for years and this lot are from the bottom of the barrel.'

Cato turned towards him. 'Is that experience talking, or prejudice?'

'Both,' Macro smiled. 'But we'll see who's right soon enough. I'll bet you that we lose a quarter of these men before we reach Rave

Cato looked over the men gathering by the wagons. The majority of the recent recruits certainly looked like poor specimens. A few had no boots at all and most were thin and drawn, and clothed in little more than rags. They were, as Macro had said, the dregs of the city: men with little hope of employment and no prospects for a better life. And now, in an act of desperation, they had volunteered for the marines. No legion would have had them, that's for sure, Cato reflected. And a good few of them would still be thrown out of the marines before training was completed. So this was their last chance. Men in such circumstances either caved in quickly, or found some last reserve of strength and determination from deep inside themselves. As Cato once had. He turned back to Macro.

'How much?'

'You'll take the bet?'

Cato nodded.

'More fool you,' Macro smiled. They had made wagers before, and Macro had won more often than not, his experience triumphing over Cato's attempts to rationalise the odds. It was typical of the lad to persist, and Macro was touched by Cato's confidence in his own judgement. But not touched enough to refuse the chance of easy money.

'All right then. The first month's pay.'

Cato stared back at him.

Macro arched an eyebrow. 'Too rich for you?'

'No. No. Not at all. A month's pay it is.'

'Done!' Macro grasped his friend's hand and shook it firmly before Cato could think of changing his mind.

A shout from the centurion in charge of the convoy drew the marines up in their ranks and they stood silent and shivering as the optios strode down the column and dressed the ranks with their long wooden staffs, clipping the odd unfortunate who failed to move with sufficient alacrity. Macro and Cato made their way over to the front of the column. They had already introduced themselves to the centurion, a ski

Cato looked round.'Where's Vitellius?'

Centurion Minucius glanced at Cato. 'Gone. He left an hour ago, with his escort. Seems that the prefect is in a tearing hurry to take up his new command. So, I'm afraid we'll be denied the pleasure of his aristocratic company for the rest of the journey. Shame that.' He gri