The Eagles Prophecy

'Nice shot, lad.'

Cato waved a hand in acknowledgement and slumped down again with a grimace. Macro glanced at the pirate and ran on towards the shelter, fifty feet away. The stones crunched loudly under his iron-nailed boots, but the element of surprise was lost now; only speed mattered. Before he reached the shelter an arm swept back the leather doorflap and a turbaned head emerged from the entrance. A dark-ski

A shadow fell across the entrance to the shelter as Cato leaned against the rough wood of the door frame. He looked down at the body smothering the fire and his face wrinkled with distaste.

'You didn't have to cook him…' Cato glanced at his friend. 'You all right?'

'Fine. Just fine.' Macro pulled himself up and squatted over the body as he grasped the handle of his sword with both hands and tore it free. He wiped it on the worn tunic of the pirate and returned it to its sheath, before brushing past Cato into the fresh air and away from the smell of smouldering flesh and burned hair.

'How about you?' Macro nodded down at Cato's crotch.

'I'll live, but I'm not so sure any putative heirs will.'

Macro smiled. 'And there's me always telling 'em how you've got balls of iron.'

'Thanks for your concern.' Cato sat down, looked round the small lookout station and thought for a moment.'We've got a problem.'

'We have?' Macro nodded at the dead pirate inside the shelter. 'Not any more. I think we got them all.'

'That's just it. What happens if the pirates discover we've killed these men? Think about it. They'll know we've been here, and that means we've discovered where their base is.'

Macro nodded, grasping the implications of the new situation at once. 'They'll run for it. And we're back to square one. With a bloody pissed-off Prefect Vespasian into the bargain. But surely, if we can get back to the fleet in time, we can still trap them in the bay before they discover we've taken out their lookout station.'

Cato shook his head. 'They're going to find out long before then.'

'Why?'

'That first man. I got the impression he was expecting someone when he heard you singing. Makes sense. There's no food up here. The lookouts would need to have food sent up to them. And if he was expecting someone, you can be sure they'll be here soon enough, see the bodies and raise the alarm at once. Probably from right here, which means Telemachus will have plenty of time to escape long before we even get back to Vespasian.'

'Shit,' muttered Macro. 'So what do we do? Wait for the supplies to turn up and take care of them as well?'

'No. We can't delay getting word back to the fleet.'

'Great!' Macro slapped his thigh in frustration. 'So what do we do?'

'Only thing we can do,' Cato replied.'You go back to the fleet and tell them everything. Take my map, that'll make it clearer. I'll stay here and wait for the supplies to turn up.'

'That's madness,' Macro protested. 'You've no idea how many men there'll be.'

'Can't be more than one or two,' said Cato. 'That's all they'll need to lead the supply mules up the track.'

'And what if they bring up men to relieve this lot?' Macro shook his head. 'You wouldn't stand a chance. Not meaning to cause any offence or anything, Cato, but you're no champion gladiator.'

'No offence taken,' Cato said grudgingly.'We'd just better hope they don't change their lookouts too frequently.'

Macro looked at him in silence for a moment, trying to think of any further arguments he could use to dissuade his friend, but Cato was right. They simply could not risk the enemy being aware that their secret lair had been discovered. If only they had not blundered on this lookout post. If only he hadn't started singing, Macro reproached himself bitterly. They might have seen the lookout post in time to skirt round it and continue their journey back to the fleet with the enemy being none the wiser. He looked at Cato.

'I'll stay. You get back to the fleet. It's my fault we had to kill them.'

'No.' Cato shook his head. 'We had to silence them. Otherwise they'd have warned the pirates of the fleet's approach. We were lucky to have found them. Don't blame yourself.'

Macro shrugged, still unable to entirely shift the burden of guilt.

'You go.' Cato insisted.'Vespasian must be told the pirates are here. The message has to get through, and you're the best bet. I'll do my bit here.'

'I see. And how will you get back to the fleet once you've dealt with the men bringing the supplies?'

'I'll stay up here until the fleet arrives. If we do surprise them I'll make my way down and you can tell them to send a boat for me. If I'm badly outnumbered here, I'll run for it. After I've set this place on fire. That'll be the signal to our side that the pirates have discovered we're on to them. I'll not take any pointless risks, Macro,' Cato tried to reassure his friend. 'Sooner a live centurion than a dead hero.'

Macro laughed. 'The wisest thing you've ever said, Cato. All right then, I'll go.'

'Right now would be good.'

'What? No rest? And me just having come out of a fight?'

'Just go, Macro.' Cato took the map from inside his tunic and held it out to his friend. 'Here.'

Macro leaned over and took the map. 'I'll see you later, Cato.'

'Remember, don't stop for anything. Be careful. No more singing.'

'What's wrong with my singing?' Macro gri

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Cato waited until the pain in his groin had subsided enough for him to move around easily. Now that Macro was gone, the first doubts about the wisdom of the course of action he had insisted on occurred to him. If three men came up the path he would be at a disadvantage. He could count on disabling one pirate when he surprised them. That would leave a straight fight with one man, which he should be able to handle. But two men? He had seen enough fights to know that almost any two men, with their wits about them, could defeat a man on his own. Provided they took their time and divided his attention. Cato made a decision. If he was faced by more than two men he would set fire to the lookout post and run for it.

The thought of fire drew him back to the present. The pirate slowly roasting on top of the fire was begi