The Eagles Prophecy

The house of Rufius Pollo had the usual understated exterior of an affluent Roman townhouse. Blank plastered walls stretched out each side of a heavily studded wood door. The faint sound of voices drifted over the wall, and just audible between the muffled chatter and trills of laughter, the gentle notes of a flute.

'There you go.' Laecus muttered. 'Now let's have the money. Price of a jar of wine, you said.' He did a quick calculation, then doubled the result and held out a hand.'Six sestertians should do.'

Cato brushed the hand to one side.'Not until after we've finished our business.'

He strode up to the door and rapped the iron knocker twice. Almost at once the watchman's inspection slot rattled open and a pair of eyes scrutinised them from the interior.

'What's your business at this time of night?' Before Cato could respond the man glanced over their clothes and continued in the same breath. 'Better make yourselves scarce, before I call the watch down on you.'

'Better not,' Cato replied. 'You'd only embarrass your master. Tell Rufius Pollo that the acting commander of the naval base wants to see him.'

The doorkeeper cast his eyes over Cato once again, more searchingly this time.'Acting commander? Acting drummer boy, more like. Be off with you!'

Cato slammed his fist against the side of the inspection slot, making the doorkeeper jump. 'I am Centurion Gaius Licinius Cato, senior officer present at the fleet of Rave

The doorkeeper stared back at him for a moment, before grumbling. 'Wait there.' He closed the inspection slot and left Cato and Laecus staring at the door. Cato felt embarrassed at the slight to his authority and at first he refused to turn and meet the gaze of the gangmaster, fearing that the man would not hide his amusement at Cato's display of hubris. Instead Cato turned away and looked up at the sky. Most of the clouds had cleared and the pitch-black depths of the heavens were scattered with the glitter of tiny stars.

'Should be good weather tomorrow,' Cato said casually. 'A calm day for the crossing.'

'Maybe.' Laecus spat into the gutter.'Maybe not. Weather changes at the drop of a hat in this season.'

'Really?' Cato glanced at his companion. 'That's a comforting thought the night before a voyage.'

The gangmaster started scratching his backside absentmindedly. 'Wouldn't go back to sea, even for good money. Well, maybe for really good money… The sea's a whimsy bastard.'

Cato raised his eyebrows. 'Colourful. I take it you once had something to do with the sea. Some trade? A sailor perhaps.'

'A sailor, all right.' Laecus stared up at the stars and shuddered.

'Why did you give it up?'

'Too fond of life. That is to say, too fond of drinking to give up life. The sea's no place for a man. It ain't natural. Leave it to the fish, and the demons that live under the surface.'

Cato stared at him, and saw a deep-rooted fear in the man's face for the first time that evening.

Laecus coughed to clear his throat and tried to sound calm. 'Demons, yes. And pirates. This lot have been the worst. Picking off ships, killing the crews, or taking them for slaves, and then vanishing. And every time the navy has tried to track them down they've failed. Like they knew when and where the fleet was going to appear. Must be some kind of magic involved.'

'Or just good intelligence,' Cato suggested.

With a sharp rattle of a drawn bolt the door was unlocked and swung silently inwards on well-oiled hinges. The entrance hall was dark, but bright lights burned at the end of a long, high-ceilinged corridor that opened out into a garden courtyard. The doorkeeper waved them inside and locked the door behind them.

'This way please, sir. The master will see you at his table.'

Cato paused. 'At his table? There's no need for that. He can be discreet if he wants. I don't mean to disturb his entertainment.'

'But you have already, sir.' The doorkeeper bowed his head. 'Now, if you please?'

'Very well. Laecus, you wait here. Doorkeeper!'

The doorkeeper turned round again, fighting to keep an irritated expression off his face. 'Yes, sir?' He responded testily.

'Bring this man a jug of wine.'

The doorkeeper's eyebrows rose in surprise at the temerity of such an order and then he smiled obsequiously. 'I'll see what refreshment can be arranged for your man, once I've taken care of you, sir.'

'Thank you.'

The doorkeeper turned away, paused an instant to glance back in case there was anything else, and then led Cato down the corridor. They strode past walls hung with rich tapestries that deadened the sounds of their footsteps. Neat busts of what Cato assumed were members of the family peered out from shallow niches at regular intervals.

They emerged from the corridor into a large peristyled garden, replete with statues and topiary, wavering slowly under the glow of hundreds of lamps hanging from the trellises that stretched across the garden. It was early spring and a large number of braziers glowed amongst the party-goers, adding their smoke to the thin greasy eddies rolling off the tiny flames of the lamps. A large dining room looked out over the garden and many more tables extended from the seating area. Richly dressed guests were draped over the benches. The meal was over and the last of the plates and serving dishes were being collected by household slaves who neither spoke nor dared to meet the eyes of the guests in their effort to remain invisible. Many of the guests had left their tables and wandered about the garden talking in the loud, thoughtless ma

He glanced around at the guests, looking for Anobarbus, but the merchant was nowhere in sight.

'Centurion!'

Cato looked towards the head of the table and saw Rufius Pollo rising up into a sitting position, arm raised to gain Cato's attention. 'Over here! Come and join me.'

Squeezing through a group of excited teenagers, Cato made his way towards the host of the party and nodded his greeting. Pollo patted the vacant seat to his left and beckoned to one of his slaves at the same time.

Cato sat down on the edge of the dining couch. 'Nice house you have here, Rufius Pollo.'

Pollo smiled modestly. 'Oh, I'm sure it's as nothing compared to the houses of Rome.'

'Nothing?' Cato shook his head.'It would compare most favourably, I assure you.'

'You're very kind,' Pollo replied civilly. 'I'm afraid you've missed the banquet, but I'll have my man see if there's anything left you can have.'

Cato waved a hand. 'Most kind. But no thank you. I've already eaten.'

'You're sure? Very well then.' Pollo clicked his fingers and thrust a long bony finger at the slave and waved him away. At once the slave dipped his head, backed away two steps and turned to scurry off.

'What's the big occasion?' Cato asked.

'Big occasion?' Pollo chuckled mirthlessly. 'Why, Centurion, in a way I suppose we're celebrating – if that could possibly be the word – your decision to leave us at the mercy of the pirates. One last feast to use up my best stores before my family and I leave Rave

'Don't you think that's a little alarmist?' Cato asked quietly.

'You think so?' Pollo laughed. 'Do you know how many such gatherings are taking place tonight? By this time tomorrow, I'd be surprised if more than a third of the households in this quarter of the port will still be here. Who can blame them? Not one marine will remain to stand between them and the pirates when they come.'

'If they come.'