The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

'This makes for very difficult reading.' Vespasian tapped a thick finger on the parchment roll on the desk in front of him. 'I assume you gentlemen know what this is?'

Cato resisted the impulse to glance sideways at Macro and nodded. 'Centurion Tullius' report, sir?'

'Exactly.' Vespasian looked out over the camp of the Second Legion. Neat rows of goatskin tents stretched out all around, and beyond that the comforting sight of the ramparts of a camp constructed in the face of the enemy. Even though Caratacus and the remainder of his army had been obliterated the legate was not a complacent man. He was aware that some of his peers might accuse him of being overcautious. Ironic, given the mad dash he had led through the heart of the marsh that day. But on the whole Vespasian was very content to be cautious. Careful even. Particularly with his men's lives.

Outside, a crescent moon bathed the world in pale silver-blue light and stars twinkled benignly in the heavens. Their distant diamond coldness was contrasted here on earth by the campfires glittering like living rubies. Despite having fought an engagement earlier in the day, his men were happy enough, and the lilt of their conversation, punctuated by bouts of hard laughter, drifted over the camp. It occurred to him that this was what peace felt like. After the best part of two seasons of the bloodiest campaigning his men could remember.

The only immediate reminder of the day's conflict was the sharp odour from the smouldering remains of fires. The smell wafted over from the silent outline of the Third Cohort's abandoned fort, a short distance away. The palisade had been repaired by the legate's engineers, and an internal ditch added to secure Caratacus and hundreds of his men, being held prisoner. Vespasian would have liked to have made an example of the villagers who had sacked the camp, but the natives had run off at the sight of the legion, though only after they had torched the headquarters and a few of the men's tent lines. Little enough damage considering the opportunity that an abandoned camp had presented to the vengeful natives.

Abandoned, that is apart from the cohort commander and one of his centurions. They had paid the price for lingering in the camp to complete an urgent dispatch, or so the report of the senior surviving officer claimed – corroborated by the two men who stood to attention in front of the legate's campaign table.

Vespasian picked up the scroll and tapped it against his chin as he regarded the two centurions, and thought the matter over. The fact that Tullius had submitted his report written on a scroll, rather than the usual wax tablets, indicated that he wanted a permanent record of events kept in the archive. That in itself was suspicious; the preferred option of men out to cover their backs.

Vespasian tossed the report on the desk. 'I'm afraid I don't believe a word of it, gentlemen. So tell me, what really happened?'

Cato answered for them. 'It's as Tullius says, sir. We were offered the chance to fight.'

'With no prospect of remission of punishment?'

'With respect, sir,' Macro bowed his head,'when your mates' lives are on the line, you don't stop to argue the terms. You just fight.'

'That I can accept. But this business about Maximius staying behind to finish some paperwork… What was it? Ah yes, a dispatch to me.'

Cato shrugged. 'That's how it happened, sir. Permission to speak freely, sir?'

'That would be a most refreshing change, Centurion. Go on.'

'I suspect the cohort commander knew we were heading into a pretty hopeless fight. I think he was looking for a way out.'

'I see. And Centurion Felix?'

'Maybe he was trying to save Felix. Maximius had his favourites, sir.'

Vespasian smiled. 'And then there's you two. A fugitive on the run from military justice, and an officer who refused to obey an order. I'd say he was within his rights not to bestow any favours on the pair of you. Wouldn't you agree?'

'That's how it looks from the outside,' Macro admitted.'But you had to be there, sir. You had to see the way he ran the cohort. He just wasn't up to the job. First that balls-up at the Tamesis, for which Cato and others were punished. That wasn't justice, sir. Then there's the way he treated the locals. You'd think he was trying to stir 'em up deliberately. Force them to react. I'd say the man was mad.'

Vespasian shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. 'That's not relevant, Macro, and you know it. Sometimes an officer has to be a harsh disciplinarian. Perhaps Maximius did what he thought was necessary.'

Cato was staring hard at the legate. 'Unless, of course, he was ordered to give the locals a hard time…' His eyes narrowed.'That's why the legion was camped at the end of the track on the other side of the marsh. That's why you marched so quickly to relieve us. You were expecting Caratacus to come out and fight, sir.'

'Silence!' Vespasian snapped, then continued in a cold, threatening tone, 'What the legate of this legion thinks is not the concern of his centurions. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, sir!' Cato said stiffly.

'Good. Then all that matters is what I decide to do with you two.' Vespasian leaned back in his chair and regarded them without expression for a moment. Cato felt the sweat break out on the palms of his hands as he balled them into tight fists behind his back.

'Once again, you have performed a valuable service for your comrades, and the Emperor,' Vespasian began. 'I think it's fair to say that your action in blocking the enemy's route from the marsh sealed the fate of Caratacus. And your capture of their commander alone is enough to win the highest of military decorations. Not to mention a promotion.'

Macro beamed at Cato, but Cato sensed this was merely the preamble to something a lot less laudatory.

Vespasian paused briefly before he continued. 'However, I have to say that you, Cato, are still under sentence of death, and you, Macro, are guilty of insubordination and mutiny, which also means a death sentence. If the testimony of one of the other surviving officers of the Third Cohort is to be believed, the pair of you might have a hand in the killing of Centurion Maximius.'

'Cordus!' Macro spat. 'It's that bastard, Cordus. If he-'

'Wait!' Vespasian snapped. He raised a hand as Macro opened his mouth to continue his protest. An unaccustomed moment of discretion forestalled any further protest from passing Macro's lips.

'As you know, there's no proof to back up his allegations. That aside, I cannot ignore the fact that rumours about the death of Maximius are rife throughout the legion. So you two present me with something of a quandary. I can't hold you to account for the murder of another officer, not without solid evidence of your involvement. Of course, I'm sure I could get the general's authority for a summary punishment…'

He paused to let the threat sink in.

'The problem is that you two have become heroes to the men of this legion. If you're executed after all that you have achieved, the morale of this unit would be severely damaged for some time to come. General Plautius cannot afford to have that additional burden placed on his shoulders. Equally, I cannot allow you to continue to serve in this legion with the other men aware of your possible complicity in the murder of another officer. That would be an appalling threat to the discipline needed to run the legion. I can't have my senior centurions going around watching their backs all the time in case some disgruntled legionary, or gods forbid, another officer, takes it into their head to settle an old score. You cannot be allowed to set such a precedent. You see my difficulty?'

Macro responded first. 'What are you suggesting, sir? Are you going to discharge us?'

There was a look of horror on the face of the older centurion as the full implication of such a possibility struck home. No more life in the legions. No more chance of booty, no fat gratuity and a comfortable and honourable retirement in some provincial colony. All Macro had known was soldiering. Without the army, and without any income what could he do? Beg? Become a bodyguard for some spoiled brat of a senator's son? The fleeting images that poured through his mind promised only misery. The destruction of his being by a slow, remorseless process of degradation.

Cato was in a more reflective frame of mind. He was young. He had seen rather more of life and death than he had ever imagined, and bore the scars to prove it. Perhaps he had had enough of this life and might find something better. Something more peaceful, more rewarding, something less likely to see him in an early grave.

'Discharge?' Vespasian raised his eyebrows. 'No. You're far too valuable to Rome to throw away in such a manner. Far too valuable. If I've learned one thing as a legate, it's this. While good officers might be in short supply, outstanding officers are a genuinely rare commodity. Rome can't afford to waste them. But, I'm afraid, your life in the Second Legion is over. You'll have to be transferred to another legion.'

'Which one, sir?' asked Cato.

'None of the units in General Plautius' army, that's for sure. Rumours about your past will follow you wherever you go in this province. So, you'll have to be reassigned. You're leaving Britain. I'm taking you back to Rome with me. I'll see what I can arrange for you with the imperial general staff. Narcissus owes me a favour or two.'

Cato could not hide his surprise.'You're leaving Britain, sir? Why?'

'My tour of duty's over,' Vespasian replied simply. 'I was notified shortly after your escape. In a few days I'll no longer be legate of the Second. My replacement is due to arrive any day now.'

'Why, sir? Surely after all you've achieved…?'

'It seems I've lost the confidence of the general.' Vespasian gave a weary smile. 'Besides, there are plenty of senators who are queuing up for the chance to win a little glory. I don't have much influence at the court of Claudius. They do. Do I really have to spell it out to you?'

'No, sir.'

'Good.' Vespasian nodded. 'Now, I've other work to attend to. Plenty of things to get sorted out before my replacement arrives. You have a few days to settle your affairs in the Second Legion. Pay your debts. Get your savings refunded, and make your farewells. You're dismissed.'

05 The Eagles Prey