The Eagles Prophecy

Cato turned to his friend.'I've seen that man before. The one tied to the tree. He's that merchant.'

'Merchant?'

'The one from Hispellum… What do you think's going on? Who are those men?'

'Not sure. Brigands, most likely. But I'm not going to sit here and let them carry on with that.' Macro looked over the ground and thought for a moment. 'It'd take too long to go back and rouse the others. By the time we got 'em back up here that poor bastard will be finished. Besides, with that bunch of marines on our hands there'd be no question of surprising them. They'd kill him, get on their horses and slip away long before we could get down the slope.'

'I see.' Cato nodded slowly. 'So, what you're saying is that it's down to us.'

'Got it in one, lad.' Macro clapped him on the shoulder. 'Come on.'

They eased themselves down from the rock slab, and then followed the crags along until they came to a thick growth of trees that stretched down to the road, just as the prisoner cried out again.

'Please! Please, no more!' The wail carried clearly up the slope to the two centurions.'I swear I don't know anything!… Please! No!'

A tormented shriek cut through the night, and spurred Macro and Cato on. They moved into the shadows of the trees and half-scrambled, half-slid down beneath the snow-laden boughs of the trees. They kept the fire in sight, and it twinkled through tangled skeins of slender pine branches as they descended. At length Macro stopped and put out an arm to warn Cato that they were close enough. Through the trees, no more than fifty paces away, the four men and their prisoner were clearly visible in the flickering firelight.

Macro drew his sword and took a step forward.

'Wait!' Cato hissed. 'You're not just going to charge in there.'

'What else?' Macro whispered. 'The two of us are hardly going to surround them.'

'No,' Cato muttered. 'We should have gone back for help.'

'Too late for that now.'

'All right then. We'll go in. But let's try and even the odds first. See there.' Cato pointed out a shallow fold in the ground beside the road, and Macro realised that it was the snow-covered drainage ditch. It passed close by the fallen tree trunk, and the men sitting there had their backs to the road.

Macro sheathed his sword and nodded. 'Looks good enough for me.'

They crept down through the trees and when they reached the open ground beside the road, both men crouched low and crunched softly across the snow until they reached the ditch, and then lowered themselves on to their stomachs. With Macro in the lead they cautiously crept forward, fighting back the urge to move more quickly when a fresh chorus of screams cut the air. They passed the edge of the trees, and drew level with the orange hue of the fire.

'Keep down,' Macro whispered over his shoulder. He eased his sword from its scabbard, took a deep breath, and slowly raised his head. Over the lip of the ditch he could see the silhouettes of the three men sitting on the tree trunk. They were silent, just watching the fourth man as he bent over the prisoner, who was invisible from the ditch. Macro mouthed a curse. The fourth man was facing them. He would see them the moment they rose up from the ditch.

Macro lowered his head and watched in frustration, until he felt a gentle tug on his foot. Glancing back, he saw Cato open his hand questioningly. Macro shook his head, then eased himself down until he could whisper to Cato without any risk of being overheard.

'We have to wait. Watch me. When I give the signal we get up, quiet as we can, and move on them. You strike when I strike. Not before.'

'Right,' Cato breathed.

They lay in the snow, swords in hand, waiting for their chance. As the snow melted beneath him Cato felt it soaking into his tunic, and chilling the bare skin beneath. He started to shiver again, even though his heart was pounding with terror and excitement. Ahead of him, Macro was still as a rock; only his eyes followed the movement by the tree trunk. The torturer continued his grisly work, and they could catch everything he was saying to his victim.

'Come on, man! You'll tell us in the end. Make no mistake, though. You will die, but you can make it easier on yourself. Much easier.'

'I swear I know nothing,' the victim choked. 'I don't know what you're looking for. I swear it!'

There was a pause before the questioner spoke again, in a low voice that dripped with menace. 'Time, I think, to fry your balls off. Let's see if that loosens your bloody tongue.'

He backed away, turned towards the fire and leaned forward to place his sword blade in among the coals. Macro tensed his muscles and waved a hand at Cato. Then both men rose into a low crouch, swords held ready, and stepped softly towards the tree trunk. The snow creaked under each footfall, and Cato placed each step as carefully and as slowly as he could, all the time keeping his eyes fixed on the back of the man in front of him. He was aware of the dark mass of Macro to his left, easing towards the man at the other end of the trunk. Then he caught a scent of woodsmoke, horse-flesh and the sharper tang of burned meat, and fought down the bile in his stomach.

The torturer straightened up and raised his blade, glowing a dull red against the dark background of the hill. He turned round and froze as he caught sight of the two shapes beyond the tree trunk.

'What the fu-'

'Get 'em!' Macro bellowed, and threw himself forward, kicking up snow as he thrust the point of the sword into the back of the man in front of him. Cato didn't have time to brace himself and just stretched out an arm and launched an attack on his man as the latter began to turn round. Cato's point went high, and straight into the man's ear with a wet crunch. The head snapped to one side under the impact of the blow and he crumpled over. The man in the middle leaped up and back from the tree trunk. He had his sword out in an instant, raising the blade to counter any attack. The torturer stood by his side, eyes flickering left and right. He smiled.

'There's only two of them. We can take 'em.'

Having cut down half the opposition, Macro and Cato paused on their side of the tree trunk. The surprise of the attack was gone. Now it was a straight paired duel. Without taking his gaze from the other men, Macro called out to Cato,'The one with the hot blade's yours. I'll take the other bastard.'

Cato nodded and moved round the edge of the tree trunk, crouched low and ready to spring into an attack. He didn't get the chance. With a roar, the man with the glowing sword charged at him. The tip of the sword slashed through the air in a bright sparkling arc and Cato just had time to thrust his blade up to parry the blow, and the glowing tip glanced off his handle and landed in the snow with a sputtering hiss. Cato recovered quickly and thrust at the man's chest, but the torturer was too quick for him and recovered from his attack, lurching backwards so that Cato's point met only thin air. The two men paused to size each other up, and Cato was dimly aware of Macro slashing away at the other man, but dare not shift his gaze from his immediate foe.

The torturer waved his free hand at Cato.'Come on, boy, if you think you're good enough.'

Cato sneered. He wasn't going to fall for the bait that easily. 'Fuck you.'

The man laughed, then his face froze into an intense and deadly concentration. He quickly stepped forward and feinted. Cato knew he was being tested and flinched slightly, but kept his blade still. The man grunted, and then launched a real attack; a whirling series of slashes and cuts, forcing Cato backwards, towards the tree trunk as he desperately countered each blow with a sharp ring as the blades co