The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

'That's it!' Macro thumped one fist into the other. 'Has to be those bloody pirates!'

Cato squinted down into the bay, sca

'It's them all right.' He reached behind him for his haversack, dragged it round and undid the straps. Macro glanced down in surprise.

'I don't think this is the best time for a snack. The sooner we get back and report this to Vespasian the better.'

Cato shook his head as he took out the map and his stylus set. 'Not until I've mapped it.'

'All right,' Macro conceded. 'But do it quickly.'

Cato did a fair approximation of the bay with its causeway and fortifications and the layout of the ships, and then packed away his equipment.

'Let's go.'

The summit of the mountain was only a short distance above them and the two men bent forward and climbed up the track, feeling far more cheerful than they had for what seemed a long time. If all went well, the Rave

'Oh, when I was a young lad,

A brave soldier I wanted to be,

To travel the world, fight the foe

And screw every-'

Cato grabbed his arm and hissed, 'Quiet!'

Macro wrenched his arm free and turned angrily on his companion. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

'Shhh!' Cato glared at him desperately. 'Listen!'

They crouched down on the track and Macro tilted his head and strained his ears. Almost at once he heard the faint sound of talking not very far away, from the crest of the mountain. The centurions both looked up, their eyes following the track, which disappeared round a boulder no more than fifteen paces away. Someone called out in a strange tongue, then again, as if waiting for a reply. They heard boots scrabbling on loose stones and then the voice called out again, nearer this time.

'Shit!' Macro whispered. 'Must have heard me.'

'He's not raised the alarm yet.' Cato thought quickly, glancing around the surrounding slope. But there was little cover. In any case, the man had heard them, and from the tone of his voice, did not expect to find any enemy lurking down the track. Cato pointed towards the boulder.

'Up there! Quick!'

They moved as swiftly and quietly as they could up the track, and had almost reached the weathered mass of the boulder when a man strode round it and stopped dead no more than five paces away. He was dark-featured and wrapped in a thick cloak over which he had belted his sword, a heavy falcata. The pirate stared at them, mouth gaping, but no sound issuing from it. For an instant all three were still. Cato reacted first, throwing his pack down and snatching at his sword as he threw himself at the pirate. With a gasp of terror the man's hand dropped to his weapon, but his scrabbling fingers merely fumbled at the pommel. Cato slammed into him, left hand clawing for the pirate's throat as the tip of his sword punched through the man's cloak and into his stomach with all the force Cato could throw behind it. The pirate doubled over the blade with an explosive groan and tumbled back on to the stony path, Cato crashing down heavily on top of him. The impact drove the remaining breath from his lungs so that the only sound that came from his lips was a rattling gasp for air. Even as he knew he was doomed, the pirate threw his hands towards his attacker's face, scratching at Cato's eyes, stubby cracked nails gouging at the flesh on the Roman's cheeks.

Cato was close enough to smell the reek of onions and wine on the pirate's breath, but he ignored the stench and thrust harder with his sword arm, aiming up into the ribcage, probing for the man's heart to end his struggles swiftly. The pirate suddenly flailed with his arms and legs and drew his knees up hard in a last desperate spasm, catching Cato in the groin. Then his body tensed for a moment, before slowly growing limp.

As Macro scrambled up, Cato released his grip on his sword and rolled to one side clutching a hand to his balls as a wave of nausea swept up through his guts.

'Oh… shit,' he managed to gasp before he threw his head to one side and retched. 'Ohhherrrr.'

Macro checked that the pirate was dead and then turned to his friend and gri

Before he could laugh at Cato writhing on the ground, hands clutched between his legs, they both heard a voice calling out. Then another man spoke.

'There's more of them!' Macro hissed to Cato.'Stay here!'

Macro unclasped his cloak and let it drop to the ground as he unsheathed his sword and crept up to the boulder. Balancing carefully, Macro crouched low and peered around the boulder. The track wound across a rock-strewn plateau to a small shelter, above a cliff that overlooked the bay on one side, and seaward approaches on the other. The pirates' lookout station was constructed of stone and weatherproofed with sods of earth packed into the gaps between the stones. A small eddy of smoke rose from the turf roof and a man was standing by the entrance, nonchalantly stretching his neck and shoulders. He rolled his head and then glanced down the track, calling out impatiently. He reached for a spear and began to walk in Macro's direction.

Macro carefully eased himself back behind the boulder. 'One more coming this way. At least another one in the shelter. Keep quiet. I'll take him.'

'Keep quiet?' Cato gasped and gritted his teeth as another wave of nausea swept through his guts.

Macro crouched low, holding his sword by his side, ready to spring out and attack the moment the other pirate came round the boulder. His heart beat madly in his chest and he tried to still his breathing as footsteps crunched on the path just a short distance away. The footsteps ceased and the man called out again, this time his words edged with unmistakable concern. He came forward again, more cautiously. Macro glanced down and realised that the pirate would see the body of the first man at any moment. He reacted instinctively. Drawing a sharp breath he scrambled out from behind the rock and ten feet away from him he saw the pirate, levelling his spear.

'Shit!' Macro hissed, pausing only an instant before he charged forward. The pirate, still momentarily stu

With a triumphant grin the pirate plucked his spear from Macro's sleeve and stepped towards the Roman, prodding the tip of the spear into his chest. Macro felt the hard iron tip cut into his flesh and winced. The man shouted at him, nodding towards the sword in Macro's outstretched hand. The centurion understood at once and let the blade fall from his fingers.

'All right! All right, I give up.'

The pirate, keeping his eyes on his prisoner, turned his head back slightly and opened his mouth to call out towards the shelter. But before he could say anything, there was a dark blur and a thud as a rock the size of a man's fist struck the pirate a glancing blow on the side of his forehead. With a grunt he reeled back, raising one hand from the spear shaft. At once Macro rolled away, and snatched up his sword. He scrambled round and hacked at the back of the pirate's knee, slicing through tendons and shattering bones. The man dropped heavily. His skull cracked on a rock and he went limp, blood rippling from a deep tear in his scalp. Macro looked up and saw Cato leaning against the boulder.