The Eagles Prey

Once the scouts had galloped off to the north, on the trail of the enemy, the men of the cohort waited quietly in the baking sunshine, watching anxiously for the cohort commander to reappear. A long time passed, maybe a quarter of an hour, by Cato's estimate, and at length he slapped his thigh in frustration.

'Think something's happened to him, sir?' Figulus asked quietly.

'I hope not. But he'd better get out of there soon. We can't afford to be delayed. He's got his orders.'

'Shouldn't someone go and check on him?'

Cato looked along the column, picking out the other centurions. Macro was looking his way and raised his hands in a gesture of frustration.

'You're right,' Cato replied. 'Someone has to find him. Stay here.'

Cato trotted forward. Felix and Antonius eyed him with surprised expressions as he passed by. He stopped when he reached Macro.

'Taking his bloody time!' Macro grumbled.

'I know. We have to get moving.'

'We need the trenching tools from the fort.'

'Then we should be getting them and moving on to the ford. Someone has to go up there…'

While Macro scratched his chin and considered the situation, they were joined by Centurion Tullius, an anxious expression on his weathered features.

'What do you think we should do?'

Macro looked at Tullius in surprise. As the senior officer present Tullius should be making decisions, not asking for advice, or worse still, opinions. The old centurion looked hopefully at the other two officers, waiting for them to say something.

'Someone has to go up there,' Cato said, at length.

'He told us to stay with our centuries.'

'Look,' said Macro, 'we can't fuck about here all day. We've got to get to that ford. Someone has to fetch Maximius. Right now.'

'Yes. But who?'

'Who cares?' Macro replied. 'You go.'

'Me?' Tullius looked frightened by the idea. He shook his head. 'No. I'd better stay with the cohort. If it's a trap I'll be needed here. You go, Cato. You'd better double up there right away.'

Cato didn't wait to show an expression of distaste, but turned towards the fort and began to run up the slope. Almost at once a figure emerged from the gate and Maximius came striding down the track. He saw the gathering of centurions at once and started towards them angrily. The three centurions steeled themselves for his wrath.

'What the hell is this? Who told you to leave your units?'

'Sir,' Cato protested, 'we were concerned for your safety.'

'And we're running behind schedule,' added Macro. 'We should be heading for the ford by now, sir.'

Maximius instantly rounded on him and stabbed a finger at his chest. 'Don't you dare presume to tell me my duty, Centurion!'

'Sir, I only meant to remind-'

'Shut up!' Maximius screamed down into Macro's face. For a moment the two officers glared at each other, as the men surrounding them looked on in astonishment.

Cato coughed. 'Sir?'

'What?'

'Were there any survivors?'

'None.'

'Any sign of Centurion Porcinus?'

Maximius winced at the mention of his friend's name.'Oh, I found him all right. In fact I kept finding him.'

'I don't understand.'

'Want me to draw you a fucking picture? If I ever catch the bastards who did this, I swear on my family name they'll spend all day dying.'

The distant pounding of hoofs drew the men's attention to the slope below the fort; one of the scouts was galloping towards them. He reined in a short distance from the officers and his mount sprayed them with clods of earth. The scout dropped to the ground at once and breathlessly saluted Maximius.

'Make your report!'

'Sir, we've found them!' The scout jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, north towards the Tamesis. 'Infantry. Heading west along the river, two miles away.'

'How many?' Cato asked.

'Three, maybe four hundred, sir.'

Maximius shot Cato a withering glance before he addressed the scout. 'You're reporting to me, boy.'

'Yes, sir.' The scout was flustered. 'Of course. Sorry, sir.'

The cohort commander nodded sternly. 'Right. Let's have them. Get back to your decurion. I want them followed. Any change of direction, he's to let me know at once. Understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then go.' Maximius waved him away and turned back to the other officers. As the scout threw himself back over the saddlecloth of his mount and spurred it away, Maximius briefly collected his thoughts. 'It's most likely to be a raiding party.'

'Raiding party?' Cato wondered.

'What else?'

Cato was surprised. 'Well, it's obvious.'

Macro winced at his friend's unusually blunt response.

'Is it? Well, Centurion, do please share your tactical insight with us mere mortals.'

'They must be scouting ahead of Caratacus' army. He's sent them to check the fords.'

'Why attack the fort?'

'Because they might have spotted the scouting force. Maybe Caratacus didn't want anyone left alive to make any report on his movements.'

'Why kill them like they did? Why did they do that then?'

'They're barbarians,' Cato shrugged. 'They can't help themselves.'

'Bollocks! They're murderers… butchers! That's all. And now they'll pay for it.'

'Sir,' Macro intervened, 'what about our orders?'

Maximius ignored him and turned towards the column, filling his lungs. 'Cohort! Prepare to advance!'

'If we leave the ford uncovered and Caratacus makes for it-'

Maximius turned to him with a forced smile. 'Macro, there's time enough to deal with our friends and then secure the ford. Trust me.'

'But the entrenching tools are in the fort, sir.'

'We can return for those afterwards…'

'If we have to come back for them-'

'Damn you, Macro!' Maximius shouted, hands balling into fists. 'Take your century, then. Get the bloody tools and I'll see you at the ford.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Cohort!' Maximius raised his arm and then swept it forward. 'Advance!'

'Third Century!' Macro shouted. 'Fall out of line!'

Macro's men shuffled off the track and the rest of the cohort followed Centurion Maximius as he quick marched across the slope towards the Tamesis. With a brief glance at the back of the cohort commander Macro grasped Cato by the arm.

'Look here. Things are turning to shit. Maximius has lost it. If he tries anything that puts you and the rest of the lads in any danger…'

Cato nodded slowly. 'I'll do what I have to, if it comes to that. See you at the ford.'

'Right. Watch yourself, lad.'

'I always do.' Cato made himself smile, then turned towards his men.

Macro watched his friend drop into line alongside Figulus, then the Sixth Century tramped by and as the rear of the last rank moved off round the hill Macro ordered his men up the slope. Apart from the steady chink and jingle of the men's equipment the only sound was the raw grating cry of the crows fighting over the fresh corpses in the fort.

05 The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER NINE

Nearly an hour later the cohort caught up with the Britons. A compact mass of infantry was marching quickly upriver, towards the ford that the cohort had been ordered to defend. From the outset it was clear that they would not reach the ford first, but their leader was a game individual who would at least give it a try and drove his men on as the Romans remorselessly closed in at a tangent. Then the Britons changed their minds and abruptly reversed their direction, heading away from the ford as they made a last desperate bid to escape their pursuers. Maximius gave orders to the decurion in charge of the scouts to skirmish ahead of the enemy column and slow it down.

So the scouts started to dart in, throwing a few of their light javelins at the leading ranks of the Britons, and then galloping back to safety. When this minor distraction failed to have much effect on the enemy's pace the decurion drew up his men and feigned a few charges, forcing the Britons to halt momentarily to brace themselves for the impact. It did not take long for the enemy to see through the feint and they ignored the third charge, forcing the scouts to quickly break off and scurry away to safety. Even so, some time had been bought for Maximius and his men. A little more than an hour after the cohort had left the fort behind them the Britons turned to face their pursuers.