The Eagles Prey

The binding around his wrists was uncomfortable, and Cato eased his backside on to the ground, sitting cross-legged, so that he could rest his arms. Then he examined the other man more closely. He was clearly a warrior, and had about him the composed aura of a natural commander of men. The torc was identical to the one that Macro wore about his thick neck. Macro had taken it from the body of Togodumnus, a prince of the powerful Catuvellaunian tribe and brother of Caratacus. Cato gave a brief bow of his head.

'I assume you are Caratacus, King of the Catuvellaunians?'

'At your service.' The man bowed his head with mock modesty. 'I had that honour, until your Emperor Claudius decided our island would make a nice addition to his collection of other people's lands. Yes, I was a king – once. Still am, although my kingdom has shrunk to this small island in the marsh, and my army is made up of those few warriors who survived our last encounter with the legions. And you are?'

'Quintus Licinius Cato.'

The king nodded.'I gather your people prefer to be known by the last of the names they list.'

'Amongst our friends.'

'I see.' A faint smiled flickered across Caratacus' face. 'Very well, since the last name's the easiest to use, you'll have to consider me a friend, for now.'

Cato did not reply, and kept his face clear of expression as he sensed some kind of trap.

'Cato it is then,' the king decided.

'Why have you sent for me?'

'Because I willed it,' Caratacus replied imperiously, stiffening his back and staring down his nose at Cato. Then he relaxed and smiled. 'Are you Romans so accustomed to asking impertinent questions?'

'No.'

'I thought not. From what I've heard, your emperors don't take kindly to being addressed directly by the common folk.'

'No.'

'But we're not in Rome now, Cato. So speak freely. More freely than you might amongst your own.'

Cato bowed his head. 'I will try to.'

'Good. I'm curious to know exactly what you and your comrades were doing camped in the marsh. If you had been armed legionaries I would have had you killed at once. But for your appalling appearance and handful of weapons you would be dead. So tell me, Roman, who are you? Deserters?' He looked at Cato hopefully.

Cato shook his head. 'No. We are condemned men. Unjustly condemned.'

'Condemned for what?'

'For letting you and your men here fight their way over the river crossing.'

Caratacus' eyebrows rose a fraction. 'You were with those men on the far bank?'

'Yes.'

'Then it was you who trapped my army. By Lud! Those men on the island fought us like devils. So few, but so deadly. Hundreds of my warriors fell to them. Were you there, Roman?'

'Not on the island. That unit was commanded by a friend of mine. I was with the main body on the far bank.'

Caratacus seemed to stare right through Cato as he recalled the battle. 'You almost had us. If you had held your ground a little longer we'd have been caught and crushed.'

'Yes.'

'But how could you hold against an army? You held us for as long as you could. No commander could ask for more of his men. Surely your General Plautius did not condemn you for failing to achieve the impossible?'

Cato shrugged.'The legions will brook no failure. Someone had to be called to account.'

'You and those others then? That's bad luck. What was your fate?'

'We were condemned to be beaten to death.'

'Beaten to death? That's harsh… though perhaps no harsher than the fate in store for you as my prisoner.'

Cato swallowed. 'And what fate would that be?'

'I haven't decided. My druids need to prepare a blood sacrifice before we return to the fight. A few of your men should appease our gods of war nicely. But, as I said, I haven't decided yet. Right now, I just wanted to see what you men of the legions are like. To understand my enemy better.'

'I'll tell you nothing,' Cato said firmly. 'You must know that.'

'Peace, Roman! I do not mean to torture you. I merely wish to discover more about the manner of the men who fill your ranks. I have tried to speak to your gentlemen officers, the handful of tribunes who have fallen into our hands. But two killed themselves before I could question them. The third was cold, haughty and contemptuous, and told me I was a barbarian pig, and that he would die rather than suffer the indignity of talking with me.' Caratacus smiled. 'He had his wish. We burned him alive. He kept control of himself almost to the end. Then he screamed and wailed like a baby. But I got nothing out of him, except for contempt of the deepest and most vile kind. I doubt I will learn much from your betters, Cato. In any case, it is the men in your legions I want to know about – to understand them; to know a little more about the men against whom my warriors were dashed to pieces, like waves on a rock.' He paused, then stared directly at Cato. 'I want to know more about you. What is your rank, Cato?'

'I'm a centurion.'

'A centurion?' Caratacus chuckled. 'Aren't you a little on the young side to hold such a rank?'

Cato felt himself blush at the casual dismissal. 'I'm old enough to have seen you defeated time and again this last year.'

'That will change.'

'Will it?'

'Of course. I just need more men. I grow in strength every day. Time is on my side, and we will have our revenge on Rome. We cannot lose for ever, Centurion. Even you must see that.'

'You must be tired of fighting us, after so many defeats,' Cato said quietly.

Caratacus stared at him across the glow of the fire. For a moment Cato feared that his defiance had been overdone. But then the king nodded.'Indeed, I am tired. However, I swore an oath to protect my people from all comers, and I will fight Rome until my last breath.'

'You can't win,' Cato said gently. 'You must realise that.'

'Can't win?' Caratacus smiled.'It's been a long year for all of us, Roman. Your legionaries must be weary after so much marching, and fighting.'

Cato shrugged.'That's our way of life. It's all we know. Even when my people are not at war we train for the next one, every day. Every bloodless training battle our men fight increases their appetite for the real thing. Your people have fought bravely, but they are mainly farmers… amateurs.'

'Amateurs? Maybe,' the king conceded. 'Yet we have come within a hair's breadth of defeating you. Even a proud Roman must concede that. And we're not beaten yet. My scouts report that your Second Legion is camped to the north of the marsh. Your legate has posted one of his cohorts to the south. Imagine, one cohort! Is he really so arrogant as to think that one cohort will contain me?' Caratacus smiled. 'Your legate needs to be taught a lesson, I think. Maybe soon. We'll show him – and the rest of you Romans – that this war is far from over.'

Cato shrugged. 'I'll admit that there were times when the success of our campaign looked in doubt. But now…?' He shook his head. 'Now, there can be only defeat for you.'

Caratacus frowned and looked pained for a moment before he replied.'I'm old enough to be your father and yet you speak as if to a child. Be careful, Roman. The arrogance of youth is not tolerable for very long.'

Cato looked down.'I'm sorry. I meant no offence. But with all my heart I know you cannot win, and there must be an end to the needless sacrifice of the people of these lands. They would beg it of you.'

Caratacus raised his fist and jabbed a finger at the centurion. 'Do not presume to speak for my people, Roman!'

Cato swallowed nervously. 'And who exactly do you speak for? Only a handful of tribes remain loyal to your cause. The rest have accepted their fate, and come to terms with Rome. They are now our allies, not yours.'

'Allies!' The king spat into the fire in contempt. 'Slaves is what they are. They are less than the dogs who feed on the scraps from my table. To be allied to Rome is to condemn your kingdom to a living death. Look at that fool, Cogidumnus. I hear that your emperor has promised to build him a palace. One worthy of a client king. So he'll condemn his people to become the property of Rome when he dies, just so that he can live out his life in a gilded cage, despised by your emperor and by his own people. That is no way for a king to live.' He gazed sadly into the glowing heart of the fire. 'That's no way for a king to rule… How can he live with such shame?'