The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The people of Rave

Cato had resolved to return to Illyricum as soon as he could, despite the pleas of the town council. A deputation had been sent to him to demand an explanation for stripping the town of its defenders. Their spokesman, a wasted figure of a man, had been full of the usual haughty arrogance of provincial officials. Cato had listened to Rufius Pollo as he expressed the council's outrage, then Cato apologised politely and said he was bound by his orders.

As word spread through the port all the opinionated idlers who hung around the wine shops staggered down to the harbour front to shout colourful insults at the men behind the closed gate. They were joined by children, keen to see what all the fuss was about, and before night fell on the day that the Spartan had sailed into port, the wide thoroughfare between the quay and the warehouses was filled with enraged townspeople.

'Want me to send a century out to disperse them?' asked Centurion Metellus, standing beside Cato as they peered over the battlements at the mob.

Cato considered the offer for a moment and then shook his head. 'No need for that. They'll disperse soon enough, once they realise they're wasting their time. No point in provoking any more bad feeling than we already have.'

'Fair enough, sir.' Metellus tried to hide his disappointment. 'Still, we'll need to teach them a lesson one day. Can't let that rabble think they can get away with it. They've been mouthing off at us ever since those pirates first came on the scene.'

'Someone else will have to teach them a lesson,' Cato said wearily. 'But not now. Not us. We're too busy.'

Metellus shrugged. 'If you say so, sir.'

'I do.' Cato turned to his subordinate.'Make sure none of your men does anything to provoke those people. They're here to guard the gate. That's all. Understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I'll be in my quarters. If there's any change in the situation send word to me at once.'

'Yes, sir.' They exchanged a salute and Cato turned away and descended the narrow staircase to the street behind the gate. As he crossed the parade ground he glanced out over the naval harbour. Four biremes were moored bow to stern along the dock, with two more anchored a short way out, waiting for their turn to be loaded. A continuous flow of men moved between the ships and the storehouses, driven on by the harsh shouts of their officers. At this pace the ships would be loaded before nightfall, ready to leave at first light the following day. The northerly wind had reduced to a steady breeze, and if it held then Cato and the reinforcements would reach Vitellius five days after the Spartan had set out from Illyricum.

There were a few things Cato would have to see to first. His thoughts went back to the prefect's report, spread out on a table in a locked room at the headquarters building. As soon as he had given his orders to the officers in charge of the garrison, Cato had retreated to Vitellius' study and opened the unsealed package, taking care to preserve both the linen wrapper and the seal. The message on the tablets had not been damaged by the water, and Cato arranged them in order before he tried to read the report. Unfortunately it made no sense. There were words all right, but they were comprised of meaningless arrangements of letters. A code then. Understandable, given that the message might have fallen into enemy hands before it reached Rave

As soon as Cato realised he was looking at a coded message he recalled that the agents at the imperial palace preferred to use an Augustan code: the transposition of letters in the alphabet according to an agreed key. Simple, but effective enough to deter those who lacked the intelligence to work out the key. Cato had spent most of the morning experimenting with single value transpositions, with no luck. So the code had to be made up of alternating values, and by mid-afternoon he had discovered the values; four, two and five. With a hastily written copy of the alphabet Cato had already decoded all but the last tablet.

The prefect's report began with a shrewd anticipation of the council leader's protest to Rome. Vitellius explained that he had been obliged to strip the port of its garrison in order to guarantee a swift and overwhelming defeat of the pirates. He provided a brief description of the sea battle, claiming to have driven off the pirates with substantial losses on both sides. Cato had smiled bitterly as he read that part. Vitellius went on to outline his current strength and intentions. That was as far as Cato had got before Metellus had called him to the main gate to see the growing mob gathering outside. Apart from the blatant misrepresentation of the disastrous first encounter with the pirates, and a rather optimistic schedule for future operations, there was nothing remotely sinister in the report so far. And, infuriatingly, no detail about the scrolls for which so much blood had already been shed.

Now, Cato was eager to return and complete the decoding, before he had to risk a trip into the port to deal with the other pressing matter. He entered the headquarters building and hurried upstairs to the prefect's suite of offices. Only a handful of clerks were still at their desks, drafting inventories of the supplies being loaded on to the biremes. Cato strode through them, groping for the key in his purse. He fitted it to the lock, turned the key, opened the door and entered. He glanced at the nearest clerk.

'I'm not to be disturbed. Not unless there's an emergency.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato closed the door and sat down in the prefect's finely carved chair. There was still some watered wine in the cup he had poured earlier and Cato took a quick sip before taking up his stylus and starting work on the final tablet. Each letter in the report corresponded to another letter further down the alphabet and as Cato decoded he made a copy of the message on a blank tablet he had taken from the prefect's stationery locker. The gist of the message was becoming quite clear, and Cato felt a chilling sense of fear, which gradually gave way to a desire for revenge. When he reached the end he set his stylus down and read through his copy.

In conclusion, our forces have achieved a qualified success so far, in no small part due to the diligence with which I have carried out the pla

At a critical point of the battle, as the enemy flagship was in full retreat and being pursued by the Horus and the trireme squadron, Centurion Cato ordered his ship to break off the pursuit and turn on the lighter enemy vessels engaging our bireme force. A charitable explanation of his action might be that the centurion had gone to aid some of our ships who were in some slight difficulties at the time. However, it is possible that Centurion Cato's desire for personal glory overrode his obedience to orders. It is also possible that he deliberately chose to close with an enemy of less impressive force than the enemy's flagship.