The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

' Are you sure about this, sir?' Nepos muttered as they crouched down in some long grass scarcely a hundred paces from the main gate of the fort. The ramparts loomed grey and forbidding in the thin mist of dawn. The brooding, menacing atmosphere in the valley had been present the moment the two men had emerged from the track leading through the marsh and seen the stakes lining the route ahead, each one bearing an impaled head. Nepos looked round at the centurion.

'Sir, if we go in there and give ourselves up, we're dead men. Might as well save them the bother of clubbing us and just bash our brains out on the nearest rock.'

'They have to be warned,' Cato replied firmly.

'Can't we just shout the details out to them, then bugger off sharpish?'

'No. Now shut up.'

Cato took a deep breath and then rose to his feet. Cupping his hands to his mouth he faced the gate and shouted the warning given to sentries by returning patrols.

'Approaching the fort!'

There was a moment's silence and then came the response. 'Advance and give the password!'

Cato looked down at Nepos. 'Right then, let's go.'

The legionary reluctantly stood up beside his superior, then Cato advanced slowly towards the gate. He could already hear the sentry shouting for the duty officer, and could imagine the duty century being roused from their slumber by rough kicks from the centurion and optio. They would scramble into their armour, snatch up their weapons and rush up on to the ramparts under a barrage of abuse from their officers. As the two filthy, bearded fugitives walked steadily out of the mist, through the dew-drenched grass, helmeted heads began to appear along the wall. Javelins wavered above them like tall rushes in a light breeze.

'Shit…' Nepos whispered. 'This was a bad idea. We're dead.'

'Shut up!' Cato snarled. 'Not one more word.'

They stopped just before they reached the defence ditch, which stretched out along the ramparts either side of the gate.

'Who the hell are you?' a voice called down from the gatehouse.

Cato drew a breath before he replied, struggling to sound as authoritative as possible.'Centurion Cato, legionary Nepos, of the Sixth Century, Third Cohort, Second Legion.'

Cato could see heads craning over the wooden rail of the palisade for a better look. Excited muttering rippled down the length of the wall.

'Silence there!' a voice roared out, and Cato saw the transverse crest of a centurion's helmet appear above the gate. The face was indistinct in the dim light but the voice was unmistakable. As soon as the men had fallen silent Tullius looked down on the wretched figures standing outside the fort, then fixed his gaze on the taller and thinner man. For a moment neither officer spoke and Cato was consumed by a sudden terrible doubt and wondered if it had been a foolish mistake to have presented himself before the fort. Perhaps Nepos had been right. They should have stood off, shouted the warning, and then fled for safety. The dread was over in a moment, as Cato reminded himself that his only future lay with the army, whatever the outcome.

'Centurion,' Tullius called out,'what the hell are you doing here?'

The formality of his tone was not lost on Cato and he knew that Tullius was trying to give him one last chance to run.

'I have to speak to Maximius. At once.'

Tullius stared at him a moment, then shrugged before he turned away to give his orders to the men waiting below by the gate. 'Open her up. Optio of the watch! Send a squad out to arrest those men.'

With a deep groan from the hinges the gates swung inwards and at once eight men with drawn swords doubled out and surrounded Cato and Nepos. There was no hiding the surprise in their expressions as they beheld the two fugitives. Surprise, and distaste, Cato realised, and he was suddenly very conscious of their filthy and ragged appearance and felt ashamed. Even so, he drew himself up and, with as much dignity as he could scrape together, he marched in through the gate, flanked by his guards. Out of one prison and straight into another, he mused bitterly, and could not suppress a rueful grin.

The guards halted once the party had entered the fort and the gate was shut behind them. Cato turned to look up at the gatehouse and saw Tullius swing himself on to the ladder and climb down. There was no expression on the veteran's face, and Cato felt the spontaneous smile of greeting fade from his lips. Tullius stopped, a few feet from Cato and shook his head.

'What the fuck do you think you're doing?'

Cato cleared his throat. 'I must speak to Centurion Maximius, sir.'

Tullius stared at him a moment and then, without looking away, he gave an order. 'Optio of the watch.'

'Sir?'

'My compliments to the cohort commander. Tell him he's wanted at the main gate.'

Once the optio had trotted away Tullius stepped right up to Cato and spoke softly.

'What are you playing at, lad? The moment Maximius claps eyes on you you're a dead man.'

'If I don't warn him, then we're all dead men.'

'Warn him?' Tullius frowned.'Warn him about what?'

'Caratacus. He's on his way here with what's left of his forces. He intends to wipe you -' Cato smiled – 'us – he intends to wipe us out.'

Beyond Tullius, Cato caught sight of the optio scrabbling to a halt as a figure strode round the corner of a line of tents. Maximius thrust the man to one side and bellowed down to the men at the gate.

'What the hell is going on? Centurion Tullius! What are those bloody beggars doing in my fort? We're not a hostel for vagrants!'

Tullius turned round and snapped to attention. 'Beg to report, sir. It's Centurion Cato, and one of his men.'

'Cato?' Maximius faltered a moment, and then continued forward as he stared at Cato in frank astonishment. Then as he confirmed the centurion's identity for himself Maximius smiled with cruel relish. He stood before Cato, hands on hips and head slightly cocked as he appraised the pair of men before him. His nose wrinkled.

'You stink.'

'Sir, I have to tell you-'

'Shut up!' Maximius screamed back.'Shut your mouth, you disgusting piece of shit! One more word and I'll cut your throat.'

He turned to Tullius. 'Throw 'em in the latrine ditch and post a guard!'

Tullius' eyebrows rose. 'Sir?'

'You heard me! Carry out my order.'

'But, sir, Centurion Cato came here to warn us.'

'Centurion Cato?' Maximius stabbed his finger into Tullius' chest.'He's no centurion. Got that? He's a condemned man. A dead man. Don't ever refer to him by that rank again. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, sir,' Tullius replied quietly. 'But the warning?'

Maximius clenched his fists as the blood drained from his face. 'Carry out my orders! If you don't want to end up like Macro, then fucking move yourself!'

Tullius shrank back. 'Yes, sir. At once, sir.'

The old centurion turned and snapped out his orders to the section that had escorted Cato and Nepos inside the fort, and now stood at attention to one side. At once the two fugitives were grasped by the arms and rapidly marched away from the gate towards the far corner of the fort. Cato twisted his head round.

'Sir, for pity's sake, hear me out!'

'Centurion!' Maximius spat. 'Silence that prisoner!'

'Caratacus is coming!' Cato managed to get out before Tullius jumped towards him and slapped him hard across the jaw. For a moment Cato was dazed by the blow, then he tasted blood and felt his mouth fill up with a thick gout. He dropped his head to one side and spat it out, before he shouted out one last warning.

'Don't-'

Tullius raised his fist.

'All right,' Cato mumbled. 'All right. What did he mean about Macro?'

Tullius looked over his shoulder, and saw that Maximius was taking the sentries to task, bawling out a diatribe against sloppy watch-keeping. Tullius turned back to Cato.

'Macro's under arrest.'

'Arrest?' For a moment Cato was struck by the dreadful thought that his friend's role in the prisoners' escape had been discovered, and, for what it was worth, he tried to bluff it out. 'What's he been arrested for?'

'Macro refused an order to carry out reprisals on the natives.'

'Reprisals?'

'Yesterday six of your men were butchered, right in front of us. Maximius ordered Macro to kill sixty villagers in return. He refused. So, Maximius placed him under arrest and handed his century over to an optio, Cordus, a right nasty piece of work, who was only too happy to carry out the order.'

Cato looked at him. 'You're serious?'

'Deadly. But quiet now!' For an instant Tullius leaned closer to whisper. 'We'll talk later. Too many ears close by.'

They marched on in silence, until they reached the lean-to shack that sat over the fort's latrine channel. The odour, as they approached, was overpowering – even after the stench of the pen in which the Britons had held them prisoner. Tullius made for the wooden trapdoor that covered the channel between the latrine and the grate through which the sewage trickled out into the drainage ditch that led directly down the slope away from the walls of the fort. Grimacing, he lifted the hatch and threw it back against the wall of the latrine.

'Get in.'

Cato looked down into the disgusting dark sludge below and shook his head. 'No.'

Tullius sighed, and turned to the escort, but Cato grasped him by the arm.

'We saw the heads down by the track leading into the marsh. What's been going on here?' Cato could see the older man was wavering. 'Tell me.'

Tullius glanced round nervously before he replied.'All right. He's like a madman – Maximius. He's been slaughtering the natives like he was on piece work.' Tullius rubbed his chin. 'Never seen anything like it. It's as if the man's possessed… mad. That's what Macro reckoned. Like Maximius was taking revenge on the locals for all the shit that's happened to the Third Cohort.'

'Maybe,' Cato replied, and paused a moment in thought. 'But I wonder why the legate sent the cohort here. Has to be more to it than just hunting us down.'

'What are you saying?'

'Think about it. We lost contact with Caratacus. The general had to find some way to lure him out into the open. Now it's happening.'

'But how could the general know that Maximius would go crazy and provoke Caratacus into an attack? He couldn't have known.'

'Yes he could…if he ordered Maximius to start slaughtering the locals.'

Tullius shook his head.'No. There's no method in what he's been doing. Just madness.'

'He is mad,' Cato affirmed,'if he doesn't get ready to prepare for the attack. By the end of the day, Caratacus and thousands of his men will arrive in front of the ramparts. They're bent on revenge, and they'll take this place by storm and slaughter everyone in it. We won't stand a chance.'

Tullius stared at Cato, struggling to hide his fear, and the young officer pushed home his advantage.

'There is only one way out of this for the cohort. Only one way I can see. But it's no good unless I, we, can persuade Maximius.'

'No!' Centurion Tullius shook his head. 'He won't listen. And he'll make sure I suffer for even talking to you like this. Get in the hole!'

'For fuck's sake!' Cato tightened his grip and pulled the older man round to face him. The legionaries reached for their swords. 'Listen to me!'

Tullius raised his spare hand. 'Easy, lads!'

Cato nodded his thanks, and continued in a desperate whisper.'You're a bloody veteran, Tullius, and those medallions on your harness weren't given to you for book-keeping, or covering your arse. If you haven't got the balls to stand up to Maximius, then at least let me have a go.' Still staring into the older man's eyes, Cato relaxed his grip and gave the arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. 'We're talking about more than one man's life here. If Maximius doesn't listen, we're all dead. You can make a difference, right now.'

'How?'

'Dismiss this escort. Then take me to his tent. Send someone for Macro. He can meet us there. We have to talk Maximius round. Before it's too late. Now, dismiss these men and hear me out.'

Cato could see the hesitation in the other man's expression and leaned closer. 'We can survive this. Better still, we can come out of it with honour. Best of all, we should be able to finish Caratacus off once and for all.'

'How?' Tullius asked.'Tell me how.'

05 The Eagles Prey