The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

'I made a bit of an arse of myself, didn't I?' Macro groaned.

He sat up on the bed and winced at the light coming in through the window of the officers' barracks. 'Cato! Push that shutter to. The light's killing me.' Cato half closed the shutter and lowered the catch so that it would not swing open in the morning breeze coming off the sea. He returned to the side of Macro's bed and leaned over to inspect the cut on the back of his friend's head. The blood had congealed into an ugly black and purple gum.

'You'll need some kind of dressing on that.'

'Why? I'm not going round looking like some bloody Parthian.' Macro groped a hand over his head and cried out as his rough fingers pressed on the injury.

Cato clicked his tongue. 'That's why. Now leave it alone while I get a bandage.'

Cato left his friend in his room and stepped out into the corridor that ran down the middle of the officers' quarters. The hospital block was on the other side of the parade ground, a fair distance away. Then he remembered Minucius' medicine box and stopped outside the centurion's room, listening at the door. But there was no sound from inside and Cato guessed that he must still be at Portia's house.

Cato sighed. There was going to be bad blood between Minucius and Macro over this business. Just one more complication to add to all the other details and dangers facing them in coming months. Cautiously opening the door, Cato looked in, but there was no one inside, and he entered and sca

Cato bent over the box, unfastened the catch and raised the lid. He ignored the jars of ointments and salves at the top, and sorted through the bandages, selecting a long roll of linen. He closed the lid and shoved the box back under the bed and returned to Macro.

'Hold still; this might hurt.'

'What's new?'

Taking as much care as he could, Cato slowly began to wind the bandage around Macro's skull, and once he had made several passes over the wound and was satisfied that it would be well protected, he tied the bandage to one side of Macro's head and tucked the ends out of sight. 'There. Now don't fiddle with it.'

'Yes, Mum,' Macro mocked him, then immediately wished he hadn't as memories of the previous evening flooded back. He tried to put them to one side and glanced up at Cato. 'How did I get back here?'

'We carried you.'

'We?' Macro asked suspiciously.

'Portia lent me a couple of her slaves.'

'Oh no…' Macro groaned. 'Did anyone see us return?'

'A few people,' Cato replied quickly. 'Probably won't talk.'

'You think so?' Macro asked coldly. 'Where's that bastard Minucius?'

'I imagine he's still with your mother.'

Macro winced at the word and he slumped back down on to his bed. 'What a bloody mess…'

Cato nodded as he crossed to the window and gazed out through the half-open shutter. The officers' barracks looked across the navy harbour to the fortified mole and beyond that the sea, twinkling brilliantly in the late morning sunshine. The sky was clear of clouds and seagulls wheeled overhead, filling the air with their shrill cries. Preparations for the campaign against the pirates were already under way. Several of the triremes had been moored alongside the wharf, and sailors were busy erecting some kind of gangway to the foredeck of each vessel. Cato turned his back on the view and leaned against the wall.

'What are you going to do about it?'

'Besides throttling that randy old bastard and my bitch of a mother? I don't know. I'm not sure what to do right now. I'm too… confused.'

'You know, I'd have thought you'd be a little pleased to see her again after all these years.'

'What do you know about it?' Macro growled. 'You never knew your mother.'

'No,' Cato said quietly, and an awkward silence filled the air.

'I'm sorry,' Macro said at last. 'I didn't mean to say that.'

'Forget it.'

'It's just that she left me without saying a word. Last I saw of her was in the harbour at Ostia. I had gone to fish off the harbour entrance, and was watching a warship pass by, and there she was on the deck, cuddling up to some bloody marine. I called out, but I guess she didn't hear me, or maybe just ignored me. At first I thought it had to be someone else, but she wasn't there when I got home. Sometimes, when my parents had been fighting, she went to her sister's for a day or two. But she hadn't turned up there either, and after a few more days I told my dad what I'd seen. He went mad, and beat me up and then went and got drunk. He came back crying, and beat me up again. That's how it was for years, until I'd had enough and left home to join the Eagles…So I've never forgiven her.'

'I'm sorry.' Cato felt helpless. There were no adequate words of comfort he could offer his friend. At the same time he was aware that there was another side to the story, which Portia had hinted at last night. But now wasn't the time to mention that to Macro.

'Sorry?' Macro glanced up. 'What've you got to be sorry for, mate? It's not your fault. Nothing to do with you.'

'I know. But you're my friend. I don't like to see you like this.'

'Like this?' Macro was quiet for a moment, and then sat up. He rose to his feet. 'No point in brooding over it. I'm getting dressed. We've got that briefing with the prefect at noon.'

'You know, you might try talking to your mother about all this. Not right now, maybe…'

'Over my dead body, or preferably hers, and that old goat Minucius.'

Cato recognised his friend's mood well enough and knew that there was no point in discussing the issue further, for the present.

'Very well then, but promise me you'll keep well clear of Minucius.'

'Cato, I'm not a little boy, so don't bloody speak to me like I'm one. As long as we're in uniform I'll work alongside that bastard without a word. But when we're off duty, that's different. He'd better stay out of my way if he wants to live to see retirement.'

As the last note of the midday signal died away the officers of the Rave

Vitellius' chief clerk, Postumus, stepped smartly into the doorway and called out, 'Commanding officer present!'

The benches grated as the officers rose quickly and stood to attention. The prefect entered the office and strode down the gap left in the middle of the rows of benches and took up position to one side of the map. He glanced over his officers for a moment before he spoke.

'You may be seated, gentlemen.'

When everyone had settled down Vitellius stared at Macro. 'You look as if you have already seen some action, Centurion.'

A ripple of laughter went through the assembled officers.

'So what happened to you, Macro?'

'I, er, slipped and fell down some stairs, sir.'