'Nothing. Why?'
'You seem different.'
'Different!' She laughed nervously. 'Nonsense. I'm just busy. I've got an errand to run for my mistress.'
'When can I see you?' Cato risked taking her hand in his. 'I don't know. I'll find you. Where are your tents?'
'Over there.' Cato pointed. 'Just ask for the Sixth Century of the Fourth Cohort.' The sudden image of Lavinia wandering through the darkened tents surrounded by thousands of males made him worry for her safety. 'It'd be better if I waited for you here.'
'No! I'll come and find you, if I get time. But you must go now.' Lavinia leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek before pressing her hand firmly against his chest. 'Go on!'
Confused, Cato backed off slowly. Lavinia smiled nervously and waved him away, as if joking, but there was an intensity in her eyes that made Cato feel cold and afraid. He nodded, turned and walked away, round the corner of a line of tents and out of her sight.
As soon as the tents blocked her view of him, Lavinia turned and hurried down the via Praetoria along the line of torches leading away from the legate's tents.
Had she waited a moment she might have seen Cato peep cautiously round the tent line. He watched her almost run in the opposite direction, and once he was sure that he could remain out of sight in the shadows on this side of the via Praetoria he followed her, padding softly from tent to tent, keeping her in view. She didn't go very far. Just to the first of the six big tents of the Second Legion's tribunes. The cold anxiety he had felt a moment earlier turned to a sickening, icy dread as he watched Lavinia boldly pull open the fIap of Vitellius' tent and step inside.
Chapter Forty-Seven
With a grand flourish Claudius whipped back the silk sheet covering thetable. Underneath, illuminated by the glow of dozens of hanging oil lamps. lay a contoured reproduction of the surrounding landscape, as detailed as the staff officers could make it in the time available, based on reports from the scouts. The legions' officers crowded round the table and examined the landscape intently. For those who had arrived after sunset this was the first opportunity to see what lay ahead of them the next day. The Emperor allowed his officers a brief moment to familiarise themselves with the model before he began the briefing.
'Gentlemen, tomorrow m-m-morning we begin the end of the conquest of this land. Once Caratacus is beaten and his army wiped out, there will be n-nothing between us and the capital of the Catuvellauni. With the f-fall of Camulodunum the other British tribes will bow to the inevitable. a year from now, I th-think we can safely say, this island will be as peaceful a p-p-province as any in the empire.'
Vespasian listened in silent contempt, and judging by the arch glances being subtly exchanged by other officers, they shared his doubts. How could there be a complete conquest in just one year? No one even knew the extent of this island; some explorers claimed that it was just the tip of a vast landmass. If so, and if tales of the savage tribes of the far north were true, it would take many more years before the province was pacified. But by then Claudius would have had his triumph in Rome and the mob would have long forgotten distant Britain, distracted by an endless orgy of gladiatorial contests, beast hunts and chariot races at the Circus Maximus. The last page of the official history of Claudius' conquest of Britain would have been written then copied onto scrolls to be placed in every major public library across the empire.
Meanwhile Plautius and his legions would still be occupied extinguishing all the minor strongholds that insisted on holding out against the invader. And while a Druid still lived, there would be constant, simmering resistance to Rome, which would regularly boil over into armed rebellion. Ever since their bloody persecution by Julius Caesar the Druids had regarded Rome, and all things Roman, with an unquenchable and fervent hatred.
'In two days' time,' Claudius continued, 'we will be feasting in C-Camulodunum. Think on that, and in years to come you w-w-will be able to tell your grandchildren of the d-d-decisive battle you fought and won at the side of Emperor C-Claudius!' Eyes gleaming and mouth grinning lopsidedly, he looked round at the faces of his staff officers. General Plautius quickly put his hands together and launched a round of applause that was rather more automatic than enthusiastic.
'Thank you. Thank you.' Claudius raised his hands and the clapping obediently died away. 'And now I'll let Narcissus talk you through the details of my p-plan of attack. Narcissus?'
'Thank you, Caesar.'
The Emperor stepped back from the table and his trusted freedman took his place, a long thin baton in his hand. Claudius limped over to a side table and began picking at some of the elaborate pastries and tarts his team of chefs had managed to conjure up. He paid little attention to Narcissus' presentation, and so missed the sullen resentment of the senior army officers at being given their orders by a civilian bureaucrat, and a mere freedman at that. Narcissus was relishing the moment and looked thoughtfully at the model before he raised his baton to begin his address.
'The Emperor has decided that bold tactics are required to crack this nut.' He tapped the stumps of twigs which represented the British palisade on the ridge. 'We can't use the ground to the south because of the marsh and we can't get through the forest. The scouts report that thick briars grow right up to the edge of the tree line.'
'Did they manage any penetration of the forest?' asked Vespasian.
'I'm afraid not. The Britons sent out chariots to chase the scouts off before they could have a good look. But they report that, as far as they could see, the forest is impenetrable and there were no signs of any open trails. '
Vespasian was not content. 'Doesn't it strike you as suspicious that the Britons didn't want the scouts getting too near the forest'?' Narcissus smiled. 'My dear Vespasian, just because you were once ambushed is not reason enough to judge others by your failure to reconnoitre adequately.'
There was a sharp intake of breath around the tent and the other senior officers watched for Vespasian's reaction to this outrageous attack on his professionalism, The legate clamped his jaw shut to bite off the outburst that rose in his throat. The charge was grossly unfair; he had been acting on Plautius' direct order, but it would be most unseemly to say so now.
'Then it would be wise to reconnoitre adequately on this occasion,' Vespasian responded in an even voice.
'It's been taken care of.' Narcissus waved his hand airily. Behind him the Emperor left the tent with a plate piled high with delicacies. 'Now then, on to the details. The artillery train will be deployed in range of the enemy defences under cover of night. The army will be drawn up behind the Praetorian Guards, with the elephants on our right wing. The bolt-throwers will lay down fire on the palisade until the Praetorians and the elephants start advancing up the slope. I should think the mere sight of the elephants will unnerve and divert the Britons for long enough to enable the Praetorians to scale the defences. They will take and hold the palisade. The Twentieth, Fourteenth and Ninth Legions will advance through the gap opened up by the Praetorians and fan out on the far side of the ridge. The Second will remain in reserve, after leaving four cohorts, along with the auxiliary troops, to guard the camp and baggage train. Once we've dealt with Caratacus it's a straight road to Camulodunum. That's all, gentlemen.' Narcissus let his baton slip through his fist until it thumped the wooden flooring.
Aulus Plautius quickly stepped up to the head of the map table. 'Thank you, a most succinct delivery.'