The Eagles Prophecy

The two centurions pushed their way across the street and through the arch that led into the tavern. Inside, the air was thick with cheap incense and dimly lit by just enough lamps for the clientele to see their way up to the bar, or out the back to the latrine. Two well-built and tough-looking men were working behind the bar, together with a tall, grey-haired woman who had her back to the entrance as she dealt with a drunken customer who was trying to grope her. Cato watched as one of the barmen leaned over and floored the drunk with a quick upper cut.

The centre of the tavern was packed with benches and trestle tables, at which large groups of rowdy men were drinking, or chatting up the local tarts and negotiating a rate for their transaction. To the side of the tavern were a number of alcoves with curtains that could be drawn across for a degree of privacy.

'Cato!'

The two centurions turned towards the sound and saw Minucius beckoning them to the alcove in the far corner, closest to the bar. Opposite him sat Anobarbus, who smiled a greeting as Macro and Cato squeezed through the drinkers towards them. They slipped on to the benches either side of the battered table, and Minucius immediately filled two leather cups and pushed them towards Macro and Cato, sloshing some of the wine over the brims.

'Thought you weren't coming.'

'Wouldn't miss it for the world,' Macro replied. 'Looks like we've got a bit of catching-up to do. Cheers!' He raised his cup and took a gulp.

Cato was sitting next to Anobarbus and turned towards him. 'How are the injuries healing?'

'Not bad. Still a bit painful. Skin on my chest feels like it's shrunk to fit a man half my size.'

Cato nodded. 'I know. I've had some burns. You'll be all right. Give it time.'

'That's what the quack says. Cheers.'

They tapped cups together and took a sip. Cato noted, with approval, that Anobarbus was a kindred spirit and merely sipped at his wine rather than gulping it down like there was no tomorrow, as was the case on the other side of the table. Anobarbus lowered his cup.

'Minucius tells me you've already been out with the navy.'

Cato glanced up at him. 'That's right. A patrol.'

Anobarbus smiled. 'So, how have you taken to a life on the ocean waves?'

'Not at all. I was sick as a dog for most of the trip.'

'Where did they take you?'

'Just a patrol,' Cato said carefully. 'Over to the coast of Illyricum and back.'

'Really?' Anobarbus looked surprised. 'I wouldn't have thought it was safe to venture that side of the sea with all these pirates about. Don't suppose you actually got to see any?'

Cato shook his head. 'No. One or two sails. That was it. Quite boring really. How about you? Picked up any more artworks for your clients?'

'No. The market's dead right now. I'll stay a while longer, until I've fully recovered. Might try one of the ports further up the coast in the next few days, see if they have anything worth buying, then head back to Rome.'

'Well, I hope you have better luck with your next journey.'

'Yes,' Anobarbus replied quietly. 'I'll need it.'

'Come on, lads!' Macro leaned over the table. 'Drink up. It's on the house! Let's have a toast to Minucius' woman, bless her!'

The cups thudded together, spilling yet more wine, and the toast was drunk, to the bottom of the cup. Cato was surprised that the wine was of a decent quality and wished that Macro would take the time to actually savour it. Unfortunately, the other two centurions had already finished the first jar of wine and Macro rose up from the bench.

'Next one's on me.'

'No need!' Minucius smiled. Pulling Macro back down with one hand, he reached under the table and brought out another jar.

Macro's eyes widened. 'How many more of those have you got under there?'

'Enough to keep us going for a while yet. Drink up!'

'Where's this woman of yours?' Macro looked round, but his view of the bar was obscured by a crowd of customers standing in the way. 'I want to give her a hug.'

'She'll join us a bit later. When it quietens down.'

'Oh, all right then.' Macro turned back to the others. 'Hey! Have you heard the news?'

'What news?' Anobarbus asked.

'The prefect's going to stick it to the pirates. Taking the whole fleet and the marines over to Illyricum to hunt the bastards down.'

Cato leaned across the table and laid a hand on his friend's arm. 'Macro!'

'What?'

'That's not for general consumption.'

Macro looked at him blearily. 'General who?'

'It's supposed to be a secret.'

'Secret? Secret from who? Soon as we start loading up the ships everyone'll know anyway.'

'That's not the point. The prefect doesn't want word of it getting out to the pirates any sooner than can be helped.'

'You told me.'

'I trusted you.'

Macro shifted guiltily. 'Well, yes. Look, I'm sorry, lad. Anyway, it's not going any further than the four of us, then. All right, boys?'

'Sure,' Minucius smiled. 'Let's make an oath, and seal it with a toast.'

'No,' Cato said firmly. 'Just don't mention it again. Goes for you too. And you, Anobarbus.'

Anobarbus nodded. 'My lips are sealed. Don't you worry.'

'Don't worry? Easier said than done, with those two soaks around.'

Minucius suddenly beamed and stood up, knocking the table with his hip and nearly sending the fresh jar of wine flying. Anobarbus' arm shot out and steadied the jar before it could spill a drop.

'Nice hands!' Macro winked at him.

'Here she is now, boys!' said Minucius. 'My woman. My girl. The love of my life.'

Cato turned round and scanned the crowd. Suddenly it parted before him as a tall, thin and elegant old lady cast a withering glare at the men around her. From the pattern of her stola he realised she was the woman he had seen earlier at the bar. She walked up to the table and smiled back at Minucius.

Flushing with pride the veteran centurion turned to his companions. 'Lads, may I introduce you to Portia, proprietress of this fine establishment and soon to be my blushing bride.'

'Ignore him,' Portia smiled. 'He's been saying he'll make an honest woman of me for the last twenty years.'

Minucius laughed, then turned to the other men.'Portia, these are the men I was telling you about. We shared that little adventure back in the mountains. That's Anobarbus, the young lad there is Cato and this incorrigible is Centurion Macro.'

Anobarbus and Cato nodded their greetings but Macro just sat still, an ashen expression on his face.

Portia looked worried. 'Are you all right?'

Macro swallowed nervously before he could manage a reply. 'Hello, Mum.'

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The silence was finally broken when Portia gave a little cry of shock and clasped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes fluttered and she collapsed like a broken laundry rack.

'Portia!' Minucius clambered over Macro and cradled her head in his hands. 'Portia, my love! Speak to me!'

While he tried to revive the woman, Cato's gaze switched from her to Macro and back again in total bewilderment. Macro just stared fixedly at Portia as if the old woman was the most astonishing vision in the entire world. When the enormity of what had just happened fixed itself in Cato's brain he began to understand Macro's paralysed reaction.

'What's going on?' Anobarbus asked, tugging at Cato's sleeve. 'What did he call her?'

'Mum. He called her Mum.'

'She's his mother?' Anobarbus smiled.'What is she doing here? I thought you two had come down from Rome.'

'I don't know.' Cato shook his head.'Macro told me that she'd abandoned him as a child. Ran off with some marine… oh…' Cato looked at Minucius, who was now squatting on the floor and stroking the old woman's grey hair. 'Oh, no! Macro.'

Macro was still staring down at Portia with a stupefied expression. Cato grabbed his arm and shook him hard.

'Macro! Come on! We have to go.'

Macro tore his gaze away and looked vaguely at Cato. 'Go? Go where?'