The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Half an hour later, Cato eased himself under the back of Maximius' tent. He glanced round and was relieved to see that the place was empty; the clerks were on the morning inspection with the cohort commander. Cato held the leather flap up and beckoned to Nepos. The legionary scrambled under and moved over so that his centurion could still see Tullius.

'All's clear. I'll wait for you in here, sir. You'd better get Macro now.'

It felt odd to be giving the veteran orders, and Cato realised that it would be best to preserve some sense of the proper code of behaviour if he were to keep Tullius on his side. The old centurion might be well past his prime, and his nerves were clearly worn down, but he still had the sense to see what needed to be done. Cato knew he must have every ally he could win over before he dared to confront Centurion Maximius.

Tullius nodded. 'Right. Just you stay out of sight, young Cato.'

Cato nodded and let the leather drop back to the ground. Glancing round he saw the cohort commander's personal chest. A red cloak was folded over the side and leaning against it was a sword. It was not the finely crafted sword he habitually wore,just the standard issue, with a handle worn glassy and smooth with age. Cato smiled. It must be a relic from Maximius' days as a legionary, now just a keepsake. A most useful keepsake. Cato quietly drew the blade and then flipped the corner of the cloak over the top of the scabbard to conceal the sword's absence.

He passed the sword to Nepos. 'Take this, and then hide yourself over there, just inside his sleeping quarters. You stay there, and keep silent. Only come out if I call for you. Understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Now go.'

As Nepos padded away Cato glanced round for a hiding place for himself and then turned back to the chest. It had high sides and had been positioned out of the way at the rear of the tent. Treading softly round the chest he lowered himself behind it and settled down to wait for Maximius to return with his officers. It was fortunate, Cato reflected, that the routine of the Roman legions was immutable. The cohort commander would return to his tent for the morning briefing of his officers just as certainly as night followed day.

Outside the tent the sounds of the legionaries going about their duties was familiar and reassuring after the anxious days Cato had spent hiding in the marsh. Not for the first time he felt that the legion had become his home, and for as long as he lived he would only ever feel safe and secure while he was in its embrace.

There was little chance of a long life now, he decided bitterly. Even if Maximius didn't try to kill him on the spot, then the enemy warriors bearing down on the fort would succeed where the centurion had failed. For a moment Cato was tempted to call for Nepos and make a break for it, and get out of the fort, before the cohort commander returned to his tent. Cato clenched his teeth and punched his thigh furiously. He had committed himself now, and he must confront Maximius if there was any chance to avert disaster.

Time passed with frustrating slowness, and Cato sat in tense anticipation as his ears strained for the first sound of the cohort commander's approach. A few times he heard Maximius bellow out an order, or an angry curse, as he did his inspection of the fort. Each time Cato prepared himself for the job he must do, and each time it was a false alarm his resolve crumbled a little more and he felt he was one step closer to succumbing to his fears and running away.

Then, at last, he heard Maximius again, close at hand and clearly approaching the tent.

'Tullius!'

'Sir?'

'Have you briefed the optios about today's patrols?'

'Yes, sir. Before the inspection.'

'Good. Just the centurions, then. Ah, there they are. Get to the briefing! Move yourselves!'

Cato shrank down behind the chest and hardly dared to breathe as blood pounded in his ears. The leather sides of the tent shimmered as Maximius brushed through the flaps into his quarters. There was a grunt as the cohort commander eased himself into a chair, then the tent shimmered again as the other centurions, breathing hard, joined him and Tullius.

There was no preamble as Maximius barked out an order. 'Take a seat gentlemen, we're running late.'

There was a short shuffling as the officers sat down.

'Where's Acting Centurion Cordus?' Maximius snapped. 'Tullius?'

'Sorry, sir. I sent him to the village to get some natives. The fort's run-off channel is backing up and needs to be dug deeper.'

'Hardly requires the personal attention of a centurion, does it?'

'He was available, sir. And more than keen to do the job.'

'No doubt,' Maximius chuckled. 'Fine lad, that. If only all my officers were as eager to treat these barbarians like the vermin they are… You told him to go, Tullius, so you can go and fetch him.'

'Yes, sir… By your leave?'

'Just go.'

For a moment no one talked, until Tullius had left the tent, then Maximius laughed again. 'Just make sure that you don't end up like that one, lads.'

Cato heard Centurion Felix echo his commander's mirth. Then Maximius abruptly stopped.

'What's the matter, Antonius? Cat got your tongue?'

'No, sir.'

'So why the long face?'

'Sir…'

'Spit it out, man!'

'I was thinking about what Cato said earlier. His warning.'

'A warning, indeed!' Maximius snorted. 'He's just had enough of the marsh. You saw the state he was in. That crap about a warning was just some pathetic attempt to wheedle his way back into the cohort. Anyway, now that the bastard's back in our hands, and the rest of them are no doubt dead, we can finish our business here and then take him to Vespasian and rejoin the legion. You should be celebrating, Antonius, not worrying like an old woman.'

Cato heard Felix snort his derision, before Centurion Antonius muttered his reply: 'Yes, sir…'

'What the hell's that smell?' Maximius sniffed. 'Smells like something crept in here, had a shit and died. What is that stench?'

There was a flicker of light on the back of the tent as the flap was opened again.

'Tullius?' Maximius sounded surprised. 'Already? Then where's-What is the meaning of this? What the hell is Macro doing here? Why is he armed?'

Taking a last breath to try to calm his nerves, Cato stood up. 'Sir, you have to listen.'

'What the…?' Maximius twisted round at the sound of his voice. 'Cato? What the hell is going on here? Guards!'

Tullius shook his head. 'No use, sir. I sent them to fetch Cordus, on your authority.'

'My authority?' Maximius looked from Tullius to Macro, then round at Cato. His eyes suddenly widened. 'What is this? A mutiny?'

'No, sir,' Tullius raised a hand and advanced. 'You have to listen to us. Listen to Cato.'

'I'll see you in hell first!' Maximius spat, and bolted to his feet. 'Antonius! Felix! Draw your swords!'

'Stay where you are.' Macro leaped forward and raised the tip of his sword, close to Felix's throat.'Don't even think about moving. Tullius! You watch him.' Macro nodded at the cohort commander. But it was too late. Maximius was on his feet, sword drawn, almost as soon as Macro had spoken. Tullius faltered, looking from Maximius to Macro with a helpless expression.

Cato turned to the flap leading to the cohort commander's sleeping quarters. 'Nepos! Get in here!'

The legionary rushed in, and stood poised with Maximius' sword raised and ready to strike. For a moment Cato stared nervously as the cohort commander's muscles trembled in readiness to spring. Maximius' eyes narrowed briefly and he concentrated his piercing gaze on the legionary.

'Drop that weapon! That's an order!'

The tip of Nepos' sword dipped slightly and Cato stepped in between them, breaking Maximius' line of sight to the legionary.

'Obey him, and you're a dead man. Understand?'

Nepos slowly nodded and Cato turned round to face the cohort commander. 'Put your sword down, sir.'

Maximius was still for an instant, then the tension around his eyes eased off and he managed a smile. 'You have the advantage, Cato. For now.'

'The sword, sir… put it down.'

Maximius relaxed his arm and let his blade fall to his side.

'Drop the sword, sir,' Cato said firmly. 'I won't warn you again.'

'And let your man strike me down? I don't think so.'

No one spoke as Cato reached out his hand towards the cohort commander. Cato felt his heart pounding in his chest, and his throat tightened as he tried to conquer his fear. For a moment it seemed that Maximius had seen through him, and a contemptuous smile slowly formed on the older man's lips. Cato tilted his head forward and refused to let his gaze waver.

Eventually Maximius nodded and sheathed his sword. 'All right, boy. Let's hear you out.' Maximius casually turned his back on Cato and stepped towards his desk,'Tell me about this attack.'

Cato saw Tullius' cheeks puff out as he breathed in relief. But Cato knew it wasn't over yet. He quickly moved up behind Maximius, shot out a hand and snatched the cohort commander's sword from its scabbard with a sharp rasping noise. He stepped back and raised the blade towards the spine of his superior. Maximius froze.

'You'd better replace that, before it's too late,' he said.

'It's already too late,' Cato replied.

Tullius started forwards.'What the hell are you doing, Cato?'

'Sir, we can't trust him. He'll pretend to hear us out and the moment we leave this tent he'd have us arrested, or killed on the spot. Nepos?'

'Sir?'

'Tie him up.'

'What about him?' Macro prodded his sword at Centurion Felix. 'This one won't rise against his master.'

'Yes, Felix as well. We have to be quick.'

While the two officers were held at the point of a sword, Nepos hurriedly undid their bootlaces and used the tough leather thongs to bind their wrists and ankles. Tullius and Antonius looked on in mounting horror.

'You can't do this,' Tullius muttered. 'This is mutiny. Shit, you'll get us killed.'

'It's too late now, sir,' Cato said gently. 'We're all involved. Me, Macro, you and Antonius. If we let them go now, we'll all be executed.'

Maximius shook his head. 'It's not too late for you, Tullius. Or you, Antonius. Stop these madmen and you have my word, you'll not stand trial.'

Cato glanced at Tullius and saw that the old man was wavering.'Tullius! You set me free. You arranged for Macro to be armed and brought here. There'll be no mercy for you now, sir. There's more at stake than our lives. He's not fit to command this cohort. Not when we're about to be attacked by Caratacus. Sir, hold your nerve. Your men need you.'

Tullius looked from Cato to Maximius and back again and rubbed his face. 'Damn you, Cato! You'll be the death of me.'

'We're all dead in the end, sir. All that matters is to make certain your death isn't pointless. If we release him now, Maximius will have us killed like dogs. If he saves us for trial, then we'll just die in chains when Caratacus gets here. But if we – you – take command, then there's a chance some of us will survive the attack. Better still, we might even be able to cripple Caratacus's force. If that happens then it's possible General Plautius will overlook this.'

'Fucking fat chance of that!' Maximius snorted.

Cato ignored him, concentrating his attention on Tullius. 'Sir, you change your mind now and you're dead. Stick with our plan, and we may live. That's all the choice there is.'

Tullius bit his lip, caught in an agony of indecision. At last he nodded his assent.

'Good!' Macro clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to Antonius. 'And you? Are you with us?'

'Yes…but if it comes to a trial I want it understood that I was obeying your orders.'

Macro snorted. 'Thanks for the loyal support.'

'Loyalty?' Antonius arched an eyebrow. 'That's in rather short supply at present. I just want to live. If the choice is as Cato has described it, then going along with you is simply the best bet.'

'Fine by me,' said Cato. 'Nepos, take these two through to Maximius' sleeping quarters and tie them to the bed. Gag them as well. They have to be kept silent.'

'There's a better way of keeping 'em quiet,' Macro added.

'No, sir. That's not necessary. Not yet.'

While Nepos dragged the two bound officers away, the rest gathered round the large desk in the centre of the tent. For a moment there was an uneasy silence before Cato cleared his throat and turned to Tullius.

'Sir, what are your orders?'

'Orders?' The veteran looked confused.

'You're the senior officer present,' Cato prompted.'We have to make sure the cohort is ready to defend itself. The plan, sir?'

'The plan? Oh, yes.' Tullius gathered his thoughts, looked over the desk for the map of the surrounding marsh that Maximius had drafted, based on reports from the patrols, and any information the local villagers had been persuaded to divulge. The sketched marks of small tracks crisscrossed the outline of the marsh. A broader line marked the main route through the marsh, leading north towards the upper reaches of the Tamesis. Tullius placed his finger on the map.

'If Cato is right, that's where Caratacus and his force will be coming from. There are a handful of other tracks that could be used to enter the valley, but they're not suitable for large bodies of men. So, we're counting on him coming down the main track. That's where we'll have to hold him. Build up the existing gateway and hope we can hold it.'

Antonius looked up.'Leave the fort? But that's madness, sir. If he outnumbers us why not fight him from proper defences? It's our best chance.'

'No, it's not,' Cato interrupted. 'Centurion Tullius is right. We have to try and hold him back, stop him breaking out of the marsh and into the valley.'

'Why?'

'When I escaped from his camp-'

'His camp?' Antonius looked astonished.'How on earth-'

Cato raised a hand to silence him.'I'll explain it to you later, sir. The thing is, I sent my optio north with a message for Vespasian. He should have reached him by now. So Vespasian will know about the location of Caratacus' camp. He'll also know that he intends to attack the Third Cohort and which route he is likely to take. If I know the legate, he'll see this as an opportunity to finish Caratacus off. If he takes the legion and advances down that track, he'll be able to fall upon the rear of the enemy force. Caratacus will be caught between Vespasian and the Third Cohort and cut to pieces, provided we can contain him in the marsh. And that means leaving the fort and taking up position across the track. If we stay in the fort, then Caratacus will be able to escape south the moment he spots Vespasian's forces.'

'That's a lot of ifs,' Antonius remarked quietly.'I'll add a few of my own: what if Figulus doesn't make it? What if Vespasian doesn't believe him? What if you're wrong? What if Vespasian doesn't act?'

'It's true, Figulus might not reach the legion,' Cato admitted. 'We have to hope that he did. The fact that he's risking execution by returning to the legion must carry some weight. We have to count on the legate seeing the opportunity to end this campaign once and for all.'

'And if he doesn't?'

'Then we'll hold Caratacus off, for a while at least. If we cause enough damage then maybe they'll pull back long enough for us to try and get back to the fort. Otherwise,' Cato shrugged, 'otherwise they'll eventually roll over us and cut the cohort to pieces.'

'Thanks.' Antonius clicked his tongue. 'Most inspiring briefing I've ever had.'

'The thing is,' Cato continued.'We have to get into position as fast as we can, and prepare the defences. Sir?' He turned to Tullius. 'We're ready for your orders.'

'Just a moment,' Antonius interrupted and jabbed his thumb towards the cohort commander's sleeping quarters. 'But what are we going to do about those two?'

'I suggest we leave them here, sir.'

'And how are we going to explain Maximius' absence to the men? Him and Felix?'

'We're not. Tullius can give all the orders as if they're from Maximius. He's the adjutant. Who would question him?'

'If Maximius fails to put in an appearance, they might.'

Cato smiled. 'By then, they'll have other things on their minds.'

Then he heard the rhythmic tramp of marching boots, approaching the tent. He glanced at Tullius.

'Someone's coming.'

The older centurion hurried to the tent flap, looked outside briefly, then turned to the others.

'It's Cordus, and he's got Maximius' guards with him.'

05 The Eagles Prey