The Eagles Conquest

'Get 'em!' Cato shouted from the watchtower. 'Use your javelins!' The section responded at once and moments later two more men and their horses were down, thrashing about in the dirt track in front of the gate. The others turned and galloped off, leaning low across the necks of their beasts in case any more javelins came after them.

Cato followed the legate down the ladder and the two of them ran over to the gate where Adminius had dropped from his mount and lay on his back, gasping for breath, eyes clenched shut in pain. There was a large tear in the side of his tunic, which was drenched with blood.

'He's wounded.' Vespasian turned towards his escort to shout an order for a surgeon to be brought up from the main camp immediately. Adminius' eyes snapped open at the sound of the legate's voice and he struggled to raise himself up on one elbow.

'Easy there! Rest yourself. I've sent for a surgeon.' Vespasian knelt down beside Adminius. 'I see the negotiations with the tribes didn't go so well this time.'

Adminius grinned weakly, his face white from loss of blood. He reached up and clenched his fist on the clasp holding the legate's cloak. Cato started forward but was waved back.

'S-something I have to tell you!' Adminius whispered anxiously. 'A warning.'

'Warning?'

'There's a plot to kill your Emperor.'

'What?'

'I don't know the full details… Only heard a rumour at the last gathering of tribal representatives.'

'What rumour? Tell me.'

'I was in disguise… because Caratacus was there, trying to get the others to join his fight against Rome… One of his advisers was drunk… started to brag that the invaders would soon leave the island… that a war amongst the Romans would start the moment the Emperor was killed. The man told me that it would be a Briton who would strike the blow… and that the assassin will be provided with the means by a Roman.'

'A Roman?' Vespasian could not hide his shock. 'Did this adviser of Caratacus give any names?'

Adminius shook his head. 'He was stopped before he could. Caratacus called him away.'

'Does Caratacus know what the man revealed?' Adminius shrugged. 'Don't know.'

'Those men chasing you – might they have been sent after you?'

'No. We ran into them. They weren't following us.'

'I see.' Vespasian thought for a moment, then turned to Cato. 'You heard all that?'

'Yes, sir.'

'You will not reveal one word of what Adminius has said. Not one word unless I give you express permission. Not to anyone. Understand?'

Vespasian and his escort returned to the main camp late in the afternoon. The legate dismissed his men and made straight for General Plautius' headquarters. Vespasian's creased brow was eloquent expression of his unease as he strode down the lines of tents. The rumour Adminius had spoken of might be no more than drunken bravado by one of Caratacus' followers anxious to be thought of as a man in the know, but the threat could not be ignored given the large quantity of Roman arms being found in the hands of the natives. The whole thing smacked of a grand conspiracy. Was it possible that the Liberators' network reached as far as Britain? If so, then they were truly a force to be reckoned with. If Adminius' information was well-founded, then there was a traitor in the army.

Vespasian's first thought was Vitellius. But would the tribune take such a terrible risk with his life? Vespasian wished he knew the man well enough to make that judgement. Was Vitellius so anogant and imprudent as to make yet another direct attempt to further his lofty political ambitions? Surely he had more sense than that.

On the other hand the assassin's Roman contact might not be in the army at all. There was already a large number of civilians following in the wake of the army; slave agents from Rome looking for bargains, wine merchants anxious to supply the legions, land agents mapping the best of the farmland for quick purchase from the Emperor, and all manner of camp followers and traders now that the army had firmly established itself as far as the Tamesis. Perhaps the traitor was among the imperial entourage itself. Certainly such a person would be well-placed to assist an assassin. This possibility made Vespasian's heart sink like a rock, and he suddenly felt very weary and utterly depressed.

Flavia was in the imperial entourage.

All the dreadful uncertainty about the woman he wanted to love unreservedly tortured him anew. How could she? How could she risk so much? Not just for herself, but for him and their son, Titus. How could she put them all in such danger? But, he told himself, Flavia might be innocent. It might be an altogether different person who was the traitor. In all likelihood it was.

Whatever the truth, if indeed there was a plot to kill the Emperor, then General Plautius must be informed at once. Regardless of the risk to Flavia.

The Eagles Conquest

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The general was just leaving his headquarters tent when Vespasian anived. Aulus Plautius was wearing his full ceremonial armour and the afternoon sun was brilliantly reflected in the fine cuirass and gilded helmet. Around him his senior officers gathered in equally gaudy attire. A string of neatly groomed horses was being led up the slope to where they waited outside the general's headquarters.

'Ah- There you are, Vespasian. I trust your day went well?' 'Sir, I have to tell you something. In private.'

'In private?' Plautius looked irritated. 'Then it'll have to wait.'

'But, sir, it's vital I tell you what I know straightaway.'

'Look, we can't delay any longer. The Emperor and the reinforcements are just beyond that ridge on the far side of the river. He has to be met with the full formalities as he enters the southern camp. Now go and get your ceremonials on. Then join me as fast as you can on the other side of the river.'

'Sir-'

'Vespasian, you have your orders. Kindly carry them out.'

The horses had reached the headquarters tent and vvithout another word or glance at Vespasian, Aulus Plautius hoisted himself onto a glossy black mare and pulled the reins to turn the horse in the direction of the new ly completed bridge. After a sharp kick of his booted heels the beast lurched forward into a canter and the rest of the staff scrambled onto their mounts and hurried to catch up. Vespasian watched them go, arm raised to protect his mouth from the dust churning through the air. Then he slapped his thigh angrily and marched back towards his legion.

Claudius and his reinforcements would have arrived in the camp on the south bank just before dusk, but for Narcissus. In the event, the column was halted on the far side of the ridge while the freedman went on ahead in his litter to make the appropriate arrangements for a dramatic entry. The litter drew up in front of the assembled ranks of officers and they waited in hushed anticipation for the occupant to emerge. With painstaking exactness the bearers lowered the litter to the ground, and a pair of footmen hurried to the silk curtains and drew them back. The plumes of the officers' helmets tilted as they craned their necks to get a good view of the litter, fully expecting the Emperor to emerge in some strange twist of protocol. There was an audible sigh of disappointment as Narcissus stepped out of the litter, rose to his feet and greeted the general.

'Aulus Plautius! Nice little camp site you've got here.' Narcissus paused to examine the scarlet cloaks and polished breastplates massed before him. 'Hello, gentlemen, I'm most touched by this welcome. You really shouldn't have.'

Aulus Plautius ground his teeth in an effort to control his temper. He stood silently as the freedman stepped up to him with a broad smile and pumped his hand.