The Eagles Prophecy

'Some fucking welcome,' Macro grumbled. 'This job is just getting better by the instant. Wonder what's in store for us next?'

Cato did not reply. He was looking intently at the sea and for the first time he realised just how afraid he was of this element. Not only was he a poor swimmer, he had suffered acutely from seasickness on the few occasions he had actually been at sea. And now he was destined to spend the foreseeable future on, or worse, in the sea. He felt sick just thinking about it.

When the wagons at the tail of the convoy had entered the naval base the marines retreated inside and quickly closed and bolted the gates. The watch officer, another centurion, strode up to Minucius' wagon, grinning widely.

'A fine welcome home that, eh?'

'Great,' Minucius growled as he reached for his canteen and rinsed his mouth out. He spat the contents to one side. 'Varro, what the hell's been going on since I've been in Rome? The whole of Umbria's gone mad with this pirate nonsense.'

The watch officer's smile faded. 'You can't have heard then?'

'Heard what?'

'They landed near a veterans' colony at Lissus a few days ago. Sacked the place and slaughtered everyone there. Women and kids put to the sword and all the men impaled. They burned the colony to the ground.'

Minucius stared at him. 'Lissus? I know some people there…'

'You did. Not any more.'

'Shit…' Minucius slumped down on to the driver's bench. The watch officer reached up and gave his arm a gentle squeeze, before he turned to the other centurions.

'Are you Macro and Cato?'

They nodded.

'You're to come with me. The prefect gave orders to send for you the moment you arrived.'

'Just a moment,' said Cato. He climbed down from the wagon and trotted back to the vehicle carrying Anobarbus.

The merchant was sitting up and brushing some mud off his cloak. He glanced up at Cato. 'Nice town, Ravenna.'

Cato held out his hand. 'The prefect's sent for us. I'll say goodbye for now. Send us word when you've found a place to stay.'

'I will.' Anobarbus clasped his hand.'And the drinks will be on me.'

Cato nodded at his money box. 'You can afford it.'

The merchant gave Cato a queer smile and then nodded. 'I owe you and Macro my life. I shan't ever forget.'

'I'll hold you to that!' He winked and hurried back to Macro and Varro, who was twitching his vine cane impatiently.

The watch officer turned away and strode off towards a massive porticoed building that looked out over the naval base.

'Nice going,' Macro hissed.'You've managed to piss them off this side of the gate as well.'

'Maybe, but there's a drink in it for us.' Cato jerked his thumb back at the merchant's wagon. 'And it's on our friend.'

'That's more like it.' Macro's contented smile lasted all the way across the parade ground.

The prefect's office was imposing – a long room that gave out on to the upper level of the portico, which provided access to all the offices along the second floor of the fleet headquarters building. The view from the prefect's office took in the broad sweep of the naval harbour, the marine barracks and the sprawl of store sheds and workshops beyond. To one side of the harbour was a timbered hard where men toiled over a beached trireme, covering the bottom with black tar from steaming vats – further evidence of the preparations for the campaign against the pirates.

Inside the prefect's office, the floor was laid with an attractive mosaic featuring Neptune skewering some demon of the deep with his trident while the other hand directed a storm to wreck a Punic fleet. Vitellius had a small, but expensive desk by a window at one end of the room, and the other end was covered with a huge map of the fleet's theatre of operations, painted on to the wall in minute detail.

Macro and Cato approached the prefect's desk and stood to attention. He was signing a stack of documents and glanced up at them before turning back to his work and completing it unhurriedly. At length, he replaced his stylus in its holder and looked up at the two centurions.

'Well,' Prefect Vitellius smiled as he leaned back in his chair, 'I take it you had a pleasant tour through our idyllic countryside?'

'Yes, sir,' Cato replied flatly.

'Good, because the holiday's over. We've got plenty of work to do over the following months. Things have moved on since Narcissus briefed us back in Rome. The situation is far more serious.'

'We noticed, sir.'

'Really?' Vitellius looked amused.'I doubt you have been given the full picture, Centurion Cato. The Imperial Secretary has only provided that to his most trustworthy agents.'

'Meaning you?' Macro chuckled bitterly.

The prefect was still for a moment, fighting to control his temper, and Cato feared for a moment that his friend had overstepped the mark, by about a mile. Then Vitellius' expression eased.

'Please dispense with the uncooperative attitude.'

There was a pause as the two men stared silently at each other in mutual loathing.

Finally, Macro nodded. 'Very well.'

'That's better. And from now on, you'll supply the required respect due to my rank. You will call me "Prefect", or "sir". Understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Come over here.' Vitellius stood up and walked over to the map. He picked up a long cane from a rack beside it and rapped on the coastline of Illyricum. 'The pirates must be operating out of a base somewhere along this coastline. So far we have gathered only very limited intelligence on them, but we do have a name. The leader is called Telemachus. A Greek. I expect he's trying to drum up some support from locals. He's a shrewd man, and won't be easy to beat.'

Cato coughed. 'Getting the scrolls back isn't going to be easy either, sir.'

Vitellius turned round and tried to read Cato's face.'What do you know about the scrolls?'

'Enough, to know how valuable they are to the Emperor, sir.'

'Really?' Vitellius gave him a searching look. 'I think you're bluffing, young Cato. Or fishing for information. Nice try. Anyway, it seems that our pirate chief is quite a player. He sent a message to inform us that there are now other parties interested in the scrolls, and they're willing to match any price that Narcissus will pay.'

'Who are these other people, sir?'

'Telemachus didn't say.'

'He's trying to drive the price up.'

'Maybe, but we can't take the risk that he's lying. Narcissus wants those scrolls, whatever the price. In men as well as money.'

'But who else would want these bloody scrolls, sir?' Macro asked.

'It doesn't really matter. Whoever it is, they can't be allowed to have them.'

'Look here, sir. It would help us if we had some idea of who we are up against.'

'No doubt,' Vitellius smiled. 'But ask yourself, if these scrolls are so vital to the Emperor, then who else would be as interested in them?'

'Aside from you, sir?'

'We've been over that, Macro. Don't try my patience any further.'

'The Liberators,' Cato said quietly. The secret organisation of republicans dedicated to the overthrow of Emperor Clandius seemed to be the obvious suspects.

Vitellius turned to look at him and shrugged.'Who else?'

'Great.' Macro shook his head wearily. 'That's all we bloody need. If they're in on the act we'll be jumping at our own shadows.'

'Quite.' Vitellius ran a hand through his oiled hair, and wiped it on the side of his tunic. 'So you can see we must proceed carefully, on a number of fronts. Firstly, we have to keep the negotiations going for as long as we can. That'll give us time to try to identify these other parties who are after the scrolls. Then we can seize them. In the meantime, we'll continue preparations for an amphibious campaign along the coast of Illyricum. We must find and destroy the pirate base, and sink or capture their ships. More importantly, we must find those scrolls. It's possible, likely even, that the Liberators have sympathisers or agents here in the fleet already. When we engage the pirates, it'll be a dirty and confusing business. That's when the Liberators are most likely to try and grab the scrolls. That's what we have to look out for and make sure we get to them first.'