The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

' At ease,' Vespasian commanded, and Cato planted his feet apart, in line with his shoulders, and gripped his hands behind his back. He was standing inside the legate's personal quarters, at the heart of the small network of tents that made up the Second Legion's field headquarters. The side panels had been drawn up to admit the afternoon breeze and the ends of Vespasian's thinning hair occasionally stirred as he reclined in his chair. At his side, on a stool, sat a clerk with several thin waxed slates resting on his knees.

'Just to make sure you understand the situation,' the legate began brusquely,'the general is conducting an inquiry into the events of yesterday. It is his contention that his orders were not obeyed and that as a consequence of this the enemy was permitted to escape the field with several thousand warriors including, as far as we know, Caratacus himself. Had the enemy been held at the ford then the entire army would have been forced to surrender and we would have been spared the butchery that occurred as they tried to escape. As a result, the campaign against Caratacus has been unnecessarily prolonged and the Empire has lost captives to the value of millions of sesterces. Do you understand the gravity of the situation, Centurion Gaius Licinius Cato?'

He paused, and from the toneless delivery of the short speech Cato realised he must have said exactly the same thing to the other five centurions he had interviewed. Cato understood the situation well enough but the formality with which he had been addressed by the legate had added a sense of menace to proceedings. He coughed to clear his throat.

'Yes, sir. I understand.'

'Good. Now, Centurion, I require you to describe, to the best of your understanding, the movements and actions of the Third Cohort yesterday. Try to keep it paced so that the clerk can keep up. It is vital that his record is as accurate as possible.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato concentrated his mind and began a detailed account of the march of the cohort towards the supply fort, the scene they found there, the orders for Macro's century to find what tools they could from the fort and then head to the ford and start preparing defences while they waited for the rest of the cohort to arrive, once they had finished chasing down and destroying the raiders. He did not flinch from describing Maximius' orders to blind the prisoners. He broke off his account to ask a question.

'Has anyone been sent to find the prisoners, sir?'

'Yes. A squadron of scouts went out this morning to find them and put them out of their misery.'

'Oh…'

'Please continue.'

Cato described how the cohort had marched as fast as they could towards the ford, and that they had broken into a run once they spied the enemy assaulting Macro's century; how they had seen Macro's cohort falling back, and then quickly outlined the attempt made to hold the near side of the crossing before they were driven back and desperately fought their way to safety in the direction of the rest of the Second Legion.

When he had finished Vespasian nodded and reached down to the clerk's slate to read back over Cato's evidence. He paused a few times to check it against other slates that Cato realised must be the results of the previous interviews. At length Vespasian took up a blank slate and a stylus and carefully made some notes before he looked up at Cato again.

'Just a few questions, Centurion. Then you can go.'

'Yes, sir.'

'At the fort, when Centurion Maximius gave the order to pursue the raiders, did you or any other officer point out that this was a breach of the orders your cohort had been given?'

'Not me, sir. It's not for me to question the word of a cohort commander. The others clearly felt the same, sir. Except Macro. He tried to point out that our orders required us to move to the ford by a specified time, and we were already behind schedule.'

Vespasian raised an eyebrow. 'But you'd left the marching camp in plenty of time. Why the delay?'

'Troops seemed to be marching slower than I'd have liked, sir.'

'Did anyone else notice?'

'Someone might have made a comment. I can't recall.'

'Did Maximius notice?'

'I don't know, sir.'

'Very well.' The legate scribbled a note and ran his finger down the slate to his next question. 'Did Maximius give any reasons for his order to go after the raiders?'

'He didn't have to, sir. He's the cohort commander.'

'Very well. In your view, why did the cohort commander ignore Centurion Macro and go after the raiders?'

Cato knew that he was stepping on to much more sensitive ground now and would have to think carefully about his responses before he put them into words for the legate.

'I suppose he was upset by the massacre of the fort's garrison.'

'He must have seen dead men before?'

'Yes, but one – the commander of the fort – was a friend – a good one, it seemed.'

'Are you saying that he disobeyed his orders on emotional grounds?'

Cato froze. If he answered yes then his evidence might be damning. 'I don't know, sir. It's possible that Centurion Maximius was concerned that the raiders might have posed a danger to the cohort if they moved against us while we attempted to defend the ford. He might have wanted to remove that threat.'

'He might have,' Vespasian repeated. 'But you couldn't know that if he never said anything about such a danger.'

'No, sir.'

Vespasian sniffed. 'Just keep to what you know as fact from now on.'

'Sorry, sir.'

'Next… when you came in sight of the ford and saw the enemy moving to take the island, would you say that Macro's century offered the enemy much resistance?'

'Much resistance, sir?'

'All right then. For how long did they attempt to defend the crossing once they had caught sight of the rest of the cohort approaching?'

Cato could see the implication of the question immediately, and for the first time began to fear for his friend. 'It's hard for me to say, sir. I was at the rear of the column.'

Vespasian sighed and tapped his stylus against the slate.'Was he defending the crossing when you came in sight of it?'

'No, sir. Some of the men were falling back. They were being covered by Macro and his rearguard. He had to fight his way back to the cohort.'

'Could you see the fight from where you were on the far bank?'

'Not quite, sir.'

'Not quite?'

'There were trees in the way, sir.'

'So you had no way of knowing if Macro was forced back, or whether he simply abandoned his position?'

Cato did not reply for a moment. He couldn't. Even though a denial would not condemn his friend it would not save him either.

'Sir, you know Macro. You know his quality. He'd never give way to an enemy until the last instant, and even then-'

'That's irrelevant, Centurion Cato,' Vespasian responded curtly. 'I'm still waiting for an answer to my question.'

Cato stared at his legate helplessly, before he finally spoke. 'No… I couldn't see the fighting on the island.'

Vespasian made a note, and then looked up and stared searchingly at Cato. Here it comes, the centurion thought. He's saved the toughest question until last. Cato focused his mind.

'Just one more issue I need to clear up, then you can go. When the Third Cohort reached the ford there was an attempt to hold the enemy back, I understand.'

'Yes, sir.'

'How effectively, in your opinion, was this defence prosecuted?'

Images of the desperate fight shimmered in and out his memory before Cato forced himself to reflect more objectively on the conduct of the cohort.

'We were outnumbered, sir. We were forced to give ground.'

'Forced to?'

'Yes, sir. Once they had pushed us back from the ford they threatened to outflank us. We had to pull back or be wiped out.'

'Has it occurred to you that if the Third Cohort had been a little more resolute and held their ground then the battle would have been a complete success?'

'Of course it has, sir. But, with respect, you weren't there…'

The clerk sucked in his breath nervously and risked a glance at his legate. Vespasian looked furious at having been spoken to in such a manner by the most junior centurion in his legion. For a while he continued to glare at Cato and then he clicked his fingers at the clerk.'Delete that last remark from the record.'

While the clerk reversed his stylus and used the flat end to erase the offending statement Vespasian addressed the centurion quietly.

'In view of your previous service record I'll let that one pass. Next time you won't find me so forgiving. I want you and the others to remain in camp. No more swimming. You may be called on without notice. Dismissed!'

'Yes, sir.' Cato stood to attention, saluted, turned smartly and marched out of the tent. He walked slowly back towards the Third Cohort's station. The baggage train had arrived earlier in the afternoon, and after a quick meal the legionaries had erected their tents. Instead of the long lines of kit there were now hundreds of goatskin tents ranged in ordered lines stretching out on both sides of the Praetorian Way, and the men had stowed their equipment inside and now slept in the shade or chatted quietly in small groups outside in the sunshine.

Back amongst his men, Cato found his own tent and saw that a camp bed had been set up for him. He slumped down on it and started to unfasten his harness. A shadow partially blocked the light streaming in through the tent flaps, he looked up and there was Macro.

'I saw you coming back. How did it go?'

'Badly. Everything I said seemed to go the wrong way.'

'I know,' Macro smiled bitterly. 'But you're not usually at a loss for words.'

'No. But nothing I said seemed to make a difference. I think the legate's already made his mind up about what happened.' Cato stopped fiddling with his buckles and looked down at the ground. 'I think we're in trouble… deep trouble.'

05 The Eagles Prey