The Eagles Prophecy

'You don't know the half of it,' Macro said quietly.

Minucius looked at him searchingly.'Something I should know?'

'No,' Cato interrupted. 'It's nothing.'

'Nothing?'

'We've served with Vitellius before. Back in Britain.'

'And?'

Cato frowned. 'And what?'

'What's he like?' Minucius observed the two centurions as they exchanged a wary look. 'Come now, lads. We're grown-ups. We'll be serving together for months, maybe years. If you've got some information on the prefect you should share it. After all, who's going to show you the ropes when we get to Rave

Cato coughed.'Let's just say that we didn't see eye to eye with Vitellius on a few issues.'

'Didn't see eye to eye, eh?' Minucius looked at the other centurions shrewdly. 'He's a thorough-going bastard then?'

Cato pursed his lips and shrugged.

'You could say that,' Macro said softly. 'But you didn't hear it from us. Right?'

'Got you.' Minucius winked good-humouredly.'Forewarned is forearmed. I'll watch my back around our new prefect.'

'Yes,' Macro added, as Minucius strode off to make sure that the convoy was ready to set off, 'so will we all.'

From Ocriculum the Flaminian Way led north, the landscape became more hilly, and the column marched through great vineyards that rolled down the hillsides either side of the road. Everywhere, the stark brown of leafless trees and shrubs of winter looked bleak and depressing, and frequent showers of icy rain lashed down on the hapless recruits. But no one dropped out of the line of march for the first few days, much to Macro's frustration.

On the fourth day after leaving Rome, the column reached the foothills of the Appe

From the situation of the barracks and the unfriendly glances from passing townsfolk, it was clear that the good people of Hispellum wanted little to do with passing military traffic. Not that Cato could blame them. The soldiers of the Emperor were inclined to regard themselves as being above the law in some respects, a view that was encouraged by the emperors themselves, who had been wise enough to realise that the military were the ultimate guarantor of their power and authority. The odd theft, drunken brawl and non-payment for goods or services were overlooked – mostly because any victims of such crimes were loath to make things worse for themselves by seeking recourse to the law. The people in the towns that lined the main military routes just kept their heads down each time a column appeared, and prayed that it would pass through without causing too much trouble.

The barracks outside Hispellum were well maintained by the town council and, having spent the previous two nights in goat-leather tents, the recruits and their officers were glad at the prospect of a warm and dry night's rest.

As night fell the officers met in the small mess where a slave had laid a fire and the town council had sent several jars of wine and some cured sides of venison to the new arrivals. No doubt they hoped that the soldiers would get drunk in the barracks and not need to venture inside the town walls. The officers were joined by a merchant, who said that he had been unable to find a room in the town. He sat apart from them and watched in silence as the soldiers talked.

'Any more drop out today?' Macro asked hopefully.

Minucius nodded. 'One. An old boy. Claudius Afer. He collapsed on the road this morning. I told him if he didn't catch up he was on his own. Looks like that's one we can scratch off the intake.'

'How many so far?' Macro asked.

'Aside from Afer, let me think. Eight. And we'll lose more as we cross the mountains. We always do. There's no more shelter for three days after Hispellum and we'll spend two nights high up. At this time of year there'll be snow and ice, and the new boys will hate every moment of it. By the time we reach Rave

As he raised his cup and drank deeply Macro was busy doing some mental maths. Eight men down, from a total strength of a hundred and fifty, was, on the face of it, disappointing. They'd need to lose another thirty-odd for him to win the bet safely. He looked up as Minucius emptied his cup and reached for the wine jar.

'How many do you expect to lose before we get clear of the mountains?'

'How many?' He puffed out his cheeks. 'Usually something like a fifth to a quarter of the new recruits. I'd expect a lesser proportion if these were men destined for the legions. The fitness test sees to that. For marines, alas, the standard is somewhat lower.'

'A fifth to a quarter,' Macro mused with a smile, and caught Cato's eye.'Better get used to the idea of a quiet first month in Rave

'We're not there yet,' Cato replied.'So don't go spending my money before it's yours.'

Minucius looked at them with a confused expression. 'Now, what's that all about?'

'It's nothing,' Macro smiled quickly.'Drink up. There's plenty more to get through before the night's done.' Macro turned back to Minucius. 'You've served with the auxiliaries, you say?'

'That's right. Four years with an infantry unit. In Syria.'

'Syria!' Macro's expression gleamed with sudden excitement and he scraped his stool closer to Minucius.

Cato raised his eyes despairingly. 'Here we go again. Bloody Syria…'

'Quiet, boy!' Macro snapped.'The grown-ups are talking. Now then – Syria. Tell me all about it. Especially the women. Are they as loose as I've heard?'

Minucius shrugged. 'Wouldn't know about that. I was posted at some shitty little frontier fort beyond Heirapolis for the best part of five years. Hardly saw a woman from one month to the next. Plenty of sheep, though.'

Macro's expression soured. 'You mean…?'

Minucius scratched his chin. 'That's why the cohort was known as "The Rams".'

'Oh. I'm sorry.'

'Sorry?' Minucius looked confused. 'Nothing to be sorry about. Most of them were good lays. And they didn't charge and give you any stupid back chat. Mind you, it was a bloody hard job catching any of the buggers in the first place. You'd have better odds on getting a dose of the clap from a vestal virgin. On second thoughts… Anyway, it took me a while, but I discovered the trick of it in the end. Want to know?'

Macro's distaste had given way to a prurient compulsion to know the sordid details, so he took another sip of wine and nodded. Minucius leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice. Though not so low that some of the optios sitting nearby could not overhear and Cato noticed them giving each other knowing looks.

'The trick of it,' Minucius explained, 'is to creep up on them nice and quiet, like. Take your boots off first, and balance on the balls of your feet. Approach from downwind and move very slowly. Too fast and you'll startle the buggers and have to start all over again. With a bit of practice you should be able to get within ten feet of 'em. Now's the clever part.' He paused and looked at Macro.

Macro nodded. 'Go on.'

'You crouch down low. Take a deep breath, and make a sound like grass…' He stared at Macro a moment, then nodded seriously and leaned back on his stool.

After a moment Macro frowned. 'Like grass?'

'Yes, grass.'

Macro glanced at Cato to make sure that he wasn't going mad.'But… you're taking the piss. Aren't you?'

'Taking the piss?' Minucius glared at him in outrage for a moment, then the expression crumbled and he roared with laughter. The optios joined in and soon tears were rolling down the old centurion's weathered face. 'Of course I fucking am! You dozy twat.'