The Eagles Prophecy

'Stop! I'm all right! I'm all right. No need for that.' He coughed a few times and then looked up at Cato with a chuckle. 'Sorry about that, but I haven't had a laugh for months. I haven't dared to. Thanks.' He smiled. 'You've made me feel much better. Almost human again. Thank you, Centurion Cato.'

For a moment the sense of relief was almost too much to bear and Secundus' eyes glimmered with tears. He cuffed them away quickly, set the mess tin down and rose to his feet.

'I'll sleep now.'

'You do that.' Cato smiled. 'I think tomorrow might just be a very long day.'

Cato rose with the dawn, waking suddenly into full consciousness from a deep sleep. He had been a soldier long enough to make the transition easily and at once. He threw back the pirate's sleeping blanket he had taken from the shelter and was on his feet an instant later, stretching his arms and shoulders. The sound of snoring came from the shelter and Cato decided to let the imperial agent sleep on for a while yet. The man needed time to rest and recover from his long ordeal at the hands of the pirates.

Cato made his way over to the signal station on the edge of the cliff, sat down and leaned against the signal mast. The horizon was clear, and there was no sign of any shipping along the coast. Before the pirates had established themselves in this area there would have been scores of sails in view. Cato turned and looked down towards the bay on the opposite shore. A thin haze of smoke eddied over the pirates' citadel and a few tiny dots moved along the shore by the ships. A peaceful enough scene, for the moment. All that would change once Vespasian arrived.

Cato stared down on the world for a while. The view was awe-inspiring and he quickly became lost in a peculiar serenity. Far below him, men were preparing for a new day of work on the beached pirate ships. Somewhere out there the men of the Ravenna fleet might be preparing themselves to fight a bitter battle with the unsuspecting pirates. Yet from up here, all these details seemed quite puny and inconsequential in the face of the mountains stretching out on either side, and an ocean that swept out to the horizon, unconfined by any sign of distant land. How peaceful it looked.

Then a small detail at the periphery of his vision stirred him back into full consciousness of his situation. Far below, on the blue sheen of the sea, five vessels were crawling across the sea half a mile off the rocky shore at the base of the mountain. They must have been visible for some time Cato realised, angry with himself for not spotting them sooner. Five galleys, he realised as he made out the twin lines of splashes that punctuated their progress. He watched them keenly as they turned towards the long inlet and headed straight at the far mountain and the pirate base beyond. As they drew closer he strained his eyes and saw that the two vessels at the head and tail of the small convoy were liburnians. In between them were three biremes. Cato frowned. What could this mean? Where was the Ravenna fleet?

Just then, as the lead liburnian emerged from the shadows into the sunlit expanse of ocean there was a dazzling flash from its fore deck. As Cato turned to look at the vessel directly the flash came again. Then another. There was a brief pause before there were three more flashes. A signal, Cato realised. The pirates were flashing a signal to the lookout station. He was seized by panic as it dawned on him that they were expecting a reply, or for the signal to be relayed. Cato stood up, trying to think. Then he turned and ran back to the shelter, shouting at the top of his voice.

'Secundus! Secundus! Get out here, man! Hurry!'

A moment later the leather curtain was wrenched aside and Secundus tumbled out of the shelter, rubbing his eyes. As soon as he saw the tense expression in the face of the centurion rushing towards him he straightened up. 'What's up? What's happening?'

'Pirate ships approaching the bay!' Cato pointed to the cliff edge.'They're signalling us. You have to help me. Come quick!'

He beckoned and turned back to the signal station. When Secundus had caught up with him, breathing hoarsely, Cato saw that the ship was still flashing its signal. He turned to the imperial agent. 'Come on, you've been with them for long enough to know the drill! What does the signal mean?'

Secundus frowned.

'Quickly man. There must be some kind of recognition signal. Something they used to show that they were friends and all was well… Tell me! We have to make the pirates in the bay think they are safe for as long as possible. Someone's going to see those ships any moment. Unless we relay the right signal they're going to know something's wrong up here and raise the alarm. Come on, tell me. What should I do?'

'I'm thinking.' Secundus shut his eyes and thought back to his time down in the pirate base. 'Yes! Yes, I remember. The black pennant! Raise the black pennant!'

Cato looked at him. 'Black? Are you certain? Not the heliograph?'

'No – that was for communicating with the citadel. They used flags for signalling to approaching ships. They flew the black pennant whenever their ships came back from a raid.'

Cato snatched up the bundle of dark linen from the locker and fixed the toggles to the loops of twine on the mast halyard. As soon as the pennant was securely attached he hauled it up the mast and fastened the halyard securely about the wooden cleat. Overhead the light morning breeze rippled the ten-foot length of material out against the blue sky.

Cato turned to Secundus. 'I hope you're right.'

Secundus swallowed nervously.'We'll know soon enough. One way or another.'

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

'What's that?' Macro pointed up at the mountain. Beside him, on the foredeck of the liburnian, one of the seamen shaded his eyes and squinted for an instant before he replied.

'A pennant, I think, sir.'

'What colour?' Macro snapped. 'Quickly, man!'

'I… I can't quite make it out, sir. Seems dark. Might be blue… or black.'

Macro turned round and cupped a hand to his mouth. 'Get the prisoner up here!'

As the word was passed for Ajax to be brought up on to the deck, Decimus came forward and joined Macro. None of the men on deck wore the uniform or carried the equipment of the imperial navy. Instead they were kitted out from the clothes and weapons taken from the two captured liburnians. Decimus sported a fine silk turban and bright yellow tunic. Macro, true to his nature, had gone for a dour brown cloak and leather breeches, and he shook his head at the extravagant costume of the ship's trierarch as Decimus climbed up on to the small foredeck. Both men stared up at the tiny shadow flickering against the light of the sun rising behind the mountain.

'He saw our signal then,' said Decimus.

'Someone did,' Macro replied quietly. 'There's no way of knowing if it's Cato up there or someone else.'

'What do you think?'

Macro scratched his stubbly chin. 'I'm not sure. If it's Cato, then how could he know the correct response? He might have had to run for it after all. That means the lookout post is back in their hands.'

There was a commotion behind them and the two officers turned to see Ajax being unceremoniously bundled out of the hatch on to the deck. Two marines wrenched him on to his feet and dragged him forward. Below the coaming of the hatch Macro could see the glint of armour from the marines packed below decks and out of sight. As the deck of the liburnian pitched up on the crest of a wave and then swooped down the far side Macro realised how uncomfortable it must be for the marines. But there was nothing he could do about it. They must remain out of sight until the very last moment if the prefect's plan was going to succeed.