From the size of the native settlement it appeared that the merchant’s information was accurate. If so, then Legate Quintatus could crush the Deceanglians and destroy their capital. After which, it only remained to reach the coast, meet up with the naval forces, and descend on the Druids’ stronghold to eradicate them once and for all. Without their influence, the native tribes of Britannia would be rudderless and unable to offer a united resistance to Rome. Then, at last, the new province might know peace. Not only would the conflict with Rome be concluded, but there would be none of the inter-tribal warfare that had plagued the island since long before the first Roman had ever set foot here.
The crunch of footsteps drew Cato’s attention away and he turned to see Livonius and Hieropates approaching. Both were shivering, but Cato ignored their discomfort. If he and his men had to cope with the cold and rain then so could the young aristocrat. It would do him good to suffer a little, Cato mused before concentrating his mind again.
‘Down there.’ He indicated the camp. ‘Get it all down on a slate and you can copy it up later.’
While the tribune oversaw the drafting of the plan of the landscape around the settlement as best as he could in the poor conditions and fading light, Cato made a quick estimate of the number of huts and the layout of the place. As soon as Hieropates had closed his slate tablet, the three returned to the rest of the men, huddled together and shivering. Cato could sense their resentment at having been ordered up the mountain, but with this being the very heart of the enemy’s territory, only a fool would venture too far in front of the main column without an escort. He pointed back down the slope.
‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘You are certain that it is the enemy capital?’ asked Quintatus. ‘And that it is inhabited?’
‘I saw some fires, sir. Tribune Livonius is updating the map. We managed to get a reasonable view of the area around the enemy settlement before the light began to fade.’ Cato stood in his dripping cape before the legate. The heavy leather of the headquarters tent swelled and shrank in the strong breeze blowing over the marching camp, as rain drummed steadily overhead, leaking through the stitched joints. A slave was busy setting up another post over the legate’s camp bed to stop water pooling in a slack fold above. Cato cleared his throat and continued. ‘And it matches the description given by your source.’
‘Good. Then we have them where we want them at last. Assuming they are prepared to defend their homes, at least. I am tired of chasing shadows. Let’s hope they’ve discovered some backbone and that this is not another of their wretched ruses. I shouldn’t be surprised if they make another run for it the moment they know we are near.’ Quintatus looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Though I am not going to give them a chance . . .’
The legate turned to the slave. ‘Find Petronius Deanus and send him to me. I want the camp prefect too.’
The slave bowed and hurried out of the tent.
‘Cato, you can take a seat and give me some more details of the enemy position while we’re waiting.’
Before he sat, Cato undid the clasp of his cloak and lowered the sodden garment to the ground. His armour and tunic were equally drenched, and the leather vest on to which the scales had been stitched felt twice as heavy as normal. He tried to ignore his discomfort as he collected his thoughts and began.
‘The settlement is on slightly raised ground to the side of the river, sir. The land around the ramparts has been cleared for some distance for farming. There are a few huts and pens but nothing else. Perhaps half a mile away is a thick band of forest. Then there are hills rising up on either side of the valley, thickly forested, including the pass we will have to take to enter the valley . . . That’s as much as I can recall, sir.’
Quintatus nodded. ‘You’ve done well, Prefect.’ He looked at Cato as if noticing his drenched appearance for the first time. ‘You must be cold, and hungry, I’ll warrant.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The partition flap rustled aside as the slave returned and announced, ‘Petronius Deanus, master. A clerk has gone for Titus Silanus.’
As he finished speaking, a skinny, grey-haired man entered the tent. He wore an ochre tunic patterned in the chequered Celtic style of the northern tribes, together with brown leggings and sandals. His hair was long, but tied back with a thick leather thong that crossed his high forehead. His shrewd eyes quickly sized Cato up before he bowed to the legate.
‘Sir, at your pleasure. How can Petronius, purveyor of the empire’s finest luxuries, serve you this evening?’
Quintatus regarded him with a weary expression. ‘Finest luxuries within the bounds of this backwards province, you mean.’
‘Today I serve my customers in Britannia, but in future my wares will adorn the finest homes in Rome, by the grace of Jupiter, best and greatest.’
‘Well, you don’t lack ambition. But enough of that. This is Prefect Cato, commander of the army’s vanguard. He has checked on the intelligence you provided me with. It seems that the Deceanglian capital is where you said it would be.’
Petronius affected a hurt look. ‘You doubted me, sir? A deal is a deal. Whether I am selling goods or information, I never go back on my word.’
The legate understood the trader’s point quickly enough. ‘I will see that you are paid, as we agreed.’
Petronius bowed low. ‘I thank you, sir. It has been a pleasure to do business with you.’
‘Our business is not yet complete.’
The trader looked up sharply. ‘Sir?’
‘Our business will not be over until the campaign is complete. Thanks to you, I know where the enemy is. Now I need to know some more detail. Numbers, condition and so on.’
‘But how am I supposed to provide such information, sir?’
Quintatus smiled thinly. ‘How do you think? You are familiar with the natives in these mountains. You trade with them. I dare say you even count a few amongst them as friends.’
‘Sir, if that were the case, why would I be here, serving Rome?’
‘Because Rome pays better. And now Rome requires you to go into the Deceanglian settlement and find out what I need to know about the enemy.’
Petronius shook his head. ‘Sadly, sir, our deal here is concluded and I have business elsewhere in the province. If I may just collect my fee, I shall be on my way.’
‘Not until you have done all I ask of you. You will be paid, in full, as soon as we have defeated the enemy. Only then will I release you from your service to me. Is that clear?’
The merchant’s jaw sagged, then he swallowed and stood as tall as he could before the legate. ‘We had a deal. You promised me silver if I told you where to find the enemy. We shook on it. It was my understanding that Roman senators are men who honour their word, sir.’
Cato saw the blood drain from the legate’s face. Quintatus took a step forward and glared at the merchant. ‘You dare to question my honour? You, a man who deals with the enemies of Rome? A man who would sell out his customers for a handful of denarii? I dare say that if those miserable barbarians could have scraped together enough coin, you would be in their settlement now telling them everything you know about this army. Don’t even pretend to claim the moral high ground, you worm.’
‘Sir-’
‘Silence! You will do as I command. Tomorrow, shortly after dawn, you will drive your cart into the enemy capital and go about your business. You will pay close attention to their defences and the number of fighting men they have. Once you have noted all that, you will bid them a cheerful farewell and return to report to me. After the enemy is defeated, and only then, you will be free to go. Bear in mind, Petronius, that if you turn traitor on me, or try to abscond, I shall have you declared an outlaw throughout the province, and the rest of the empire. If you are caught, you will be nailed to a cross and left to rot.’ Quintatus paused and permitted a brief silence. ‘Are we clear?’