The Eagles Prey

'Who do I need to be protected against?'

Narcissus smiled. 'Why, yourself, my dear Plautius. Their presence will act as a reminder that those in the palace get to see and hear everything. Tends to curb the tongues and ambitions of some of our less politically acute commanders.'

'And you think I need discouraging?'

'I'm not sure.' Narcissus stroked his beard. 'Do you?'

The two men stared at each other in silence for a moment, before General Plautius let his gaze fall back to the glass he was turning round and round in his fingers. Narcissus laughed lightly.

'I thought not. Which leads me on to my next query. If you are not disloyal to the Emperor then why are you doing so much to undermine his cause?'

The general put his empty glass back on the table with a sharp rap and folded his arms. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Let me put it another way, then; a less culpable form of words. Why are you doing so little to further his cause? As far as I can see, your army has done hardly more than consolidate the gains of last year. The only advances have been made in the south-west by Legate Vespasian and his Second Legion. You still haven't brought Caratacus to battle, despite having superior forces, and despite having half the tribes of this benighted land come over to us as allies. I can hardly think of any more propitious circumstances for pushing forward, defeating the enemy and ending this costly campaign.'

'So it's the cost you take exception to, then?' General Plautius sneered. 'There are some things in this world that don't have a price.'

'Wrong!' Narcissus snapped back before the patrician could launch into any high-flown rhetoric about Rome's manifest destiny and the need for each generation to extend the limits of the Empire's glory. 'There is nothing in this world that doesn't have a price. Nothing! Sometimes the price is paid in gold. Sometimes in blood, but it is always paid. The Emperor needs victory in Britain to make his position safe. That will cost Rome the lives of many thousands of its finest troops. That's regrettable. But we can rectify that. There will always be more men. What we can't afford to do is lose one more emperor. The murder of Caligula nearly brought the Empire to its knees. If Claudius' claim to the title hadn't been seized on by the Praetorian Guard we'd have had another civil war – power-mad generals tearing the legions to pieces in their pursuit of glory. In a short time the Empire would have become nothing more than a closed chapter in the histories of fallen powers. What sane man would wish that on the world?'

'Very nice. Very elegantly put,' said Plautius.'But what's this got to do with me?'

Narcissus sighed patiently. 'Your slow progress is costing us dearly. It's costing the Emperor a loss of reputation. It's nearly a year now since he had a triumph to celebrate victory in Britain. And still I receive requests for more troops. More weapons. More supplies.'

'We're just mopping up.'

'No. Mopping up is what you do after you've beaten the enemy. What you're doing is soaking up resources. This island is like a sponge. It's continually sucking in men, money and political capital. How much longer is this going to go on, my dear General?'

'As I said in my reports, we're making progress. Slowly but steadily. We're forcing Caratacus back mile by mile. Very soon he will have to turn and fight us.'

'How soon, General? Another month? Another year? Longer than that?'

'A matter of days, as it happens.'

'Days?' Narcissus looked doubtful. 'Please explain.'

'Gladly. Caratacus and his army are camped less than ten miles away.' Plautius gestured to the west. 'He knows we're here, and knows that we're expecting him to fall back when we advance, as he has done every time. However, when we next push forward it's his plan to cross the Tamesis at a series of fords not far from here, march round behind us and lay waste to all those tribes we've subdued south of the Tamesis. He might even try to steal a large enough advance on us to storm the supply base at Londinium. It's a sound enough plan.'

'Indeed. And how did you come to know of it?'

'One of his senior chiefs is an agent of mine.'

'Really? First I've heard of it.'

'Some information is too sensitive to commit to written reports,' Plautius said smugly. 'You never know into whose hands it might fall. May I continue?'

'Please.'

'What Caratacus doesn't know is that the Second Legion has been moved up from Calleva to cover the crossing. Caratacus will be caught between my army and the river. There will be nowhere to run this time. He'll have to turn and fight, and when he does he'll be crushed. Then, Narcissus, you and the Emperor will have your victory in Britain. All that will remain are a few malcontents in the mountainous country to the west and those savages up in Caledonia. It may not be worth bringing them under our control, in which case some kind of barrier defence will be needed to keep them out of the province.'

'Barrier? What kind of barrier?'

'A ditch, a wall, maybe a canal.'

'Sounds horribly expensive.'

'Rebellion is more expensive. Anyway, that's work for the future. For now, we must concentrate our efforts on defeating Caratacus and breaking the tribes' will to resist. I trust you will want to be there to witness the battle?'

'Very much so. I'll look forward to it. Almost as much as I look forward to relating the event to the Emperor himself. You'll do well out of this, Plautius. We all will.'

'Then may I propose a toast?' Plautius refilled both their glasses and raised his own. 'To the frustration of the Emperor's enemies, and a… crushing victory over the barbarians!'

'To victory!' Narcissus smiled, and emptied his glass.

05 The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER FOUR

The centurions of the Second Legion were seated on several rows of stools in the headquarters tent waiting for their legate to give his briefing. They had spent a long day preparing the legion for the rapid advance scheduled for the following morning. Quite where the unit was headed no one knew, except Vespasian, the legate, and he had not divulged any information to his headquarters staff. The sun had only just set and the air was alive with midges. They swarmed around the flickering yellow flares of the oil lamps and every so often there was a pop and crackle as an insect foolishly ventured into a flame. At the head of the tent a large hide map, depicting a section of the Tamesis, was suspended on a wooden frame.

Three rows from the front sat the six centurions of the Third Cohort. Tucked on to the end of the row sat a tall youth, who looked conspicuously out of place amongst the lined and weathered faces of the other centurions seated near him. Indeed, he looked barely old enough to qualify for service with the legions. Beneath a curly mop of dark hair, brown eyes gazed out of a lean-looking face. His thin frame was readily apparent beneath the tunic, chain-mail corselet and harness, and his bare arms and legs were not bulky with muscle, but slender and sinewy. In spite of the uniform and the two sets of untarnished medals fixed to his harness, he still looked like a boy, and the sidelong glances he darted about the tent revealed the self-consciousness he felt about his situation.

'Cato! For fuck's sake, stop fidgeting!' grumbled the centurion sitting next to him.'You're like a flea on a hot plate.'

'Sorry, it's this heat. It's making me feel funny.'

'Well, you'll be the only one laughing. I don't know what's wrong with this bloody island. When it isn't wet and rainy it throws a blinder of a day at you. Wish it would make its mind up. I'm telling you, we should never have come to this dump. Why the hell are we here, anyway?'

'We're here because we're here, Macro.' His companion made a smile.'I seem to remember you telling me that's always the answer.'

Macro spat on the ground between his boots. 'Try to help you out and all I ever get is backchat. Why do I bother?'