‘Verica’s grandson? Why?’
‘Because I believe that he was the man masquerading as the optio who got Caratacus through our lines.’
The Britannic King thought for a few moments. ‘Not since he was a boy, well before he went to Rome, say six or seven years. Why?’
‘Could you identify him?’
‘I doubt it after all this time; he’d be a man now and I only saw him a few times as a lad.’
‘A pity.’ Vespasian looked at the crude map rolled out before him; there was not much detail on it south or west of where they were, just the coastline of the peninsula that narrowed as it ran southwest into the ocean and marked with a couple of rivers. ‘Where do you think they’re headed?’
The Briton got up and peered at the map in the lamplight. ‘My western scouts who came back in this afternoon reported another hill-fort about here.’ He pointed a dirty-nailed finger at the map slightly north of west of their present position, almost halfway to the sea on the north coast of the peninsula.
Vespasian noted its whereabouts on the map; most of the markings were in his hand, the cartographic record of the island being sparse to say the least. ‘How large is it?’
‘Larger than this one; it’s got three ditches and four ramparts.’
‘Is it occupied?’
‘According to my men there is a small force holding it but not more than a few hundred; it would seem that most of the warriors were called to muster here.’
‘Question the prisoners and find out all that you can about the place.’
Cogidubnus nodded.
Vespasian considered the facts for a few moments, running a hand through his thinning hair. ‘We’ll need to take it anyway as we move west, although I can’t imagine that Caratacus will let himself be caught in a siege again. What’s between here and there?’
‘Hills and some flat land; there are a few settlements but none are fortified so they’ll probably be abandoned as we approach them.’
‘What news from the scouts in the north?’
‘They’re not back but if any hostile body was close enough to threaten us they would have sent a message.’
‘Have that agent of yours report to me, he may know something about the place.’
‘I will, as soon as I can find him.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘I don’t know; he disappeared soon after we brought him down.’
Vespasian paused, frowning. ‘How long has this agent been working for you?’
‘He appeared before me about four months ago, just as you were settling into your winter camp, saying that he was an Atrebas who’d been captured by the Durotriges as a child and had spent ten years as a slave on a farm. He’d managed to escape and came to me to offer his services in return for some land of his own to farm; he said that it would be easy for him to pass unnoticed in and out of any Durotrigan hill-fort as he had no status. I could see the logic of that so I accepted; and, having so nearly caught Caratacus today, I think that I was right to do so.’
Vespasian nodded before studying the map again. After a few moments he pointed to a small peninsula attached to the southern coast by a thin strip of land, about thirty miles directly south of the hill-fort. ‘This looks like a good sheltered anchorage for the fleet; have your scouts had a look at it?’
Cogidubnus squinted at where he was pointing. ‘They’re not good judges of nautical affairs, but they said that there are a couple of fishing settlements on the eastern side of the promontory, but there is another well-fortified settlement about six or seven miles inland from it.’
‘Then we’ll take that on our way down to the coast having dealt with this next problem.’ Vespasian turned to Valens. ‘Get a message to the fleet and have them rendezvous with us there in ten days’ time with next month’s supplies.’
‘He’ll leave at first light.’
‘Good. Maximus, we’ll leave the Gallic cohort that led the assault here to garrison the fort; I expect they could do with the time to lick their wounds. Have another cohort escort the prisoners back to our winter camp; the slave-traders can assess their value there. The legion will strike camp before dawn tomorrow and force-march towards this hill-fort; there is a chance that we can get there by dusk. Paetus, you will take your Batavians and ride at the speed of Mercury and get to the western side of that fort without being seen; take one of Cogidubnus’ scouts as a guide. I want you to intercept anyone who tries to leave the place; and I mean anyone, even the ugliest old crone.’ Vespasian stood, leaning on the desk with his hands; his officers also got to their feet. ‘Gentlemen, once again speed is essential. The chances are Caratacus will leave that fort in the morning and head on west; but if he doesn’t, I want him caught like we had him today, although this time we do not allow him to escape. We’ll take these two forts, resupply with the fleet and then continue west along the coast to this estuary here that marks the border between the Durotriges’ and the Dumnoni’s lands.’ He pointed to a large river mouth twenty or so miles from the rendezvous point. ‘This is our objective this season and then we’ll strike north across the peninsula to the northern coast next year to link up with our allies the Dobunni’s land. Any questions?’
There was a general shaking of heads and positive mumbling.
‘Gentlemen, you have your orders; dismiss.’
The officers saluted and they and Cogidubnus turned and left.
‘You didn’t ask them the obvious question,’ Magnus said, sitting in the shadows in the far corner of the tent.
‘How do they think that Caratacus and Alienus communicated to effect the rescue?’
‘Precisely.’
Vespasian smiled, raising his eyebrows. ‘That’s because I’ve just worked that out. They didn’t need to; Alienus was in the fort already.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Hormus!’
The slave appeared from the private quarters. ‘Yes, master.’
‘Fetch us some wine.’
With a bow, Hormus disappeared.
Vespasian sat opposite Magnus and told him of Sabinus’ disappearance whilst being led to a fictitious meeting by Alienus and then of Cogidubnus’ agent escaping from the fort just before the attack.
‘You’re saying that these two people were the same man?’ Magnus said after digesting the information.
‘Yes.’
‘They can’t be; Cogidubnus’ agent had long hair and the tribune Alienus must have had short hair.’
‘It’s a wig.’
‘Ah, yes; I suppose it could be.’
‘Of course it is and that and the dirt smeared over his face prevented me from recognising him. Which means that he’s a double agent. Cogidubnus doesn’t recognise him either because it’s been so long since he saw him and he thinks that he’s his man; he wasn’t surprised when Alienus made a break for it and then personally vouched for him. He doesn’t even know that the treacherous little shit speaks Latin; they spoke together in their own language. No one was suspicious that he managed to escape from a fort filled with armed warriors only a few of whom bothered to try to bring him down with javelins and they all missed, even at such close range, because he then confirmed that Caratacus was inside.’
‘But he was the one who told you that Caratacus might be there in the first place.’
‘I know, which means that Caratacus wanted us here; he used himself as bait to draw us in.’
‘Why? What’s he achieved by having four thousand of his warriors either killed or enslaved?’
‘I don’t know but there must be a bigger picture in which that sacrifice is justified. A means to an end.’
Hormus returned with a tray and placed it on the table between them.
Vespasian waved him away. ‘We’ll serve ourselves; leave us. So once he’d got us here he had to remain, otherwise the tribe would have surrendered in the face of such odds; only his presence would’ve induced them into that sacrifice. But then he had to escape. He knew that there was no way he could get through our lines unless he pretended to be a Roman agent being smuggled out of the camp; to do that he had to get a man to pose as a Roman. Alienus was ideaclass="underline" he speaks fluent Latin. It was set up and Alienus played the part perfectly: having seemingly made a daring escape, the double agent disappears at the same time as an optio goes missing and then within an hour an optio calling himself Alienus appears with forged orders to escort a spy out of the camp by a secret tunnel that no one in this army knew about.’