The Eagles Prophecy

'Yes. Rest.' The merchant nodded. 'Now, I think I've had enough questioning for the night, if you gentlemen don't mind?'

Macro shook his head, and Cato sat back and puffed his cheeks. Anobarbus closed his eyes and, with a strained expression etched on his face, he tried to breathe easily. Gradually, the rise and fall of his chest became less laboured and his face relaxed into a deep sleep.

'What do you think?' said Cato.

'About what?'

'About his story? Does it hold up?'

Macro shook his head. 'Why not? Cato, you see conspiracies everywhere. Why shouldn't the man be what he said he is? It's simple enough to believe.'

'Too simple,' mused Minucius.

Macro looked round in exasperation. 'Not you too?'

'Why not?' said the old centurion. 'And, by the way, I'm still not even sure about you and the lad here. What was all that nonsense about scrolls?'

'I've had enough of this,' Macro grumbled. 'I need some sleep.'

'Tough.' Minucius nodded at the merchant on Macro's bedding.

'Oh, great,' Macro gritted his teeth.'That's all I need.' He rose up and made for the tent flaps.

'Where are you going now?'

'For a piss. If you don't mind. Then I might just go and cut myself some more bloody bedding.'

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER TWELVE

The column reached Urbinum two days later, having paused a short while along the way to retrieve a small wooden chest from behind a shrine. Anobarbus decided to remain with them, explaining that he had friends in Ravenna who would put him up until he recovered from his wounds.

Two more men had been lost in the mountains, simply vanishing in the night in a foolhardy attempt to return to their families in Rome. Minucius doubted they would get out of the mountains alive, and Macro was in spitting distance of winning his bet.

By the time the marines reached the port of Ariminum the roadside inns were full of stories relating the latest exploits of the pirate fleet terrorising the seas off the coast. Although the barbarians were hardly at the gate, there was no denying the palpable hysteria that was gripping the people of Umbria. In Ariminum itself the local garrison had moved into the citadel, along with most of the wealthiest townspeople. There were few ships in port and the azure horizon of the sea was bare of sails.

Ten days after they had picked up Anobarbus, the column marched through the town gate of Ravenna, one man over the total number Macro needed to win his bet. It had taken a great effort of will for Macro not to quietly dispose of one of the recruits the night before they reached their destination, and he reluctantly conceded the bet to Cato as the last of them marched inside the town.

'Want me to start a tab?' Cato grinned.

'Only if you want me to knock your teeth out. You'll get your money, just as soon as we're paid.'

'I can hardly wait to spend your first month's wages. Three hundred denarians goes a long way.'

'Three hundred?' Minucius laughed at the exchange. 'You'll be lucky. I assume you two are on the marine payroll?'

'Yes,' Macro replied. 'What of it?'

'I don't suppose for a moment that the officials who posted you here were kind enough to mention the rate of pay?'

'No.' Macro's heart was sinking like a rock. 'What of it?'

'We get the same as the auxiliaries.'

Macro stared at him in horror for a moment, and then smiled nervously. 'You're having me on again, aren't you? Just give it a rest, Minucius.'

'I'm serious.'

'Bollocks.'

'No, really. I'm serious.'

Macro shook his head, and then slapped his thigh in fury. 'Shit!… That tight bastard Narcissus has shafted us again! I swear I'll kick his head in one day, if it's the last thing I ever do.'

'More than likely,' muttered Cato.'And pipe down about Narcissus, unless you want the whole town to know our business.'

'I don't bloody believe this,' Macro continued.'Not only does he stick our heads in the bloody noose, he does it on the cheap into the bargain.'

Macro persisted in his grumbling as the column worked its way down the main thoroughfare of Ravenna towards the docks. As in most provincial towns, the streets were narrow and few of the buildings were more than two storeys tall. Even before they reached the waterfront, Cato could see a dense forest of masts and rigging packed into the harbour. On the main quay itself scores of sailors sat around disconsolately and gazed out at the ships moored tightly together in the gentle swell. They stood up as the recruits marched by, and stared at them with open hostility.

'I don't understand,' said Cato.'I thought all the shipping had tried to get as far from the pirates as possible. There was a handful of ships in Ariminum.' He waved a hand across the harbour. 'I've never seen so many before. Aren't they afraid of the pirates?'

'Of course they are, lad,' Minucius grinned. 'And that's precisely why they're here. What better place to be than right beside a naval base. Over there's the guarantee of their safety.'

Cato followed the arm that Minucius had raised and saw what he was pointing at. At the end of the quay was a large fortified gateway, leading into the naval dockyard. Riding at anchor in the open waters of the navy harbour was a fleet of sleek warships. He counted over thirty of them. Most were small patrol craft, but further out lay a squadron of larger triremes, the formidable backbone of the Roman fleet. Each trireme boasted three banks of oars on each side, with fortified towers at the bow and stern, upon which catapults were mounted. A large bronze-sheathed ram extended from the prow of each ship.

Beyond the triremes there was one even bigger vessel. Cato stood up on the bed of the wagon and pointed.'What's that?'

'That's the Horus, our flagship. She's a quinquireme, a five, as we call 'em. Quite a history behind that one. She was Mark Antony's flagship. Captured at Actium and taken into the imperial navy by Augustus. Built to last and tough as old boots. There's nothing afloat that can match her.'

Cato stared at the Horus a moment longer, then resumed his seat as the convoy moved along the quay towards the gates of the naval base. The sailors and dockers lining the route closed in on each side, watching them in bitter silence.

A voice cried out,'When are you going to do something about them pirates?'

The complaint was instantly taken up by other voices, and soon the marines and their officers were surrounded by angry shouts and shaking fists. The recruits glanced around nervously.

'Eyes front!' Minucius roared out. 'Eyes front, I said. Ignore the bastards.'

A clod of filth sailed through the air and struck the centurion on the shoulder. He clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead. Unfortunately, the example had been set and suddenly the air was filled with mud, excrement and other stinking refuse, and it pelted down on the hapless marines and their officers. The men at the front of the column faltered as they tried to shield themselves from the bombardment, and Minucius rose to his feet and cupped his hands to his mouth.

'Keep marching at the front there! Don't bloody stop!'

The optios lashed out at their men with their staffs and the pace picked up. Minucius opened his mouth to shout further encouragement and, as Macro watched, a turd flew through the air and caught the veteran right in the mouth. There was a spontaneous roar of laughter from the nearest townspeople at the sight.

Minucius ducked down, spitting and wiping his lips on his sleeve. 'If I ever find the bastard responsible for that, I'll make him eat shit for the rest of his bloody days.'

Macro, struggling hopelessly to keep a straight face, nudged Cato.'I thought that sort of thing only happened to me.'

'It has. Look.' Cato pointed to his tunic and, glancing down, Macro saw a nasty brown smear on the wool.

The watch officer on the gate had seen the trouble brewing along the wharf and as the recruit column approached a squad of marines piled out of the entrance to the naval base and charged into the crowd to clear a route for Minucius and his men. The barrage intensified as the townspeople made the most of their last chance to have a go at the men they held responsible for the loss of their livelihood. Macro and Cato covered their heads and ducked down behind the sides of the wagon.