The Eagles Prophecy

'I suppose, if I did not agree, then I would be quietly disposed of?'

'Naturally. It would be as if you, and your line, had never existed.'

'Then I agree…'

Narcissus smiled.'Thank you. Vitellius?'

Vitellius nodded at once.

Then Narcissus turned his gaze on Cato, and the young officer felt a chill of fear ripple down his spine. He had no delusions about his expendability in matters of state. Yet he summoned enough courage to stiffen his back and stare back at the Imperial Secretary.

'Centurion, I have watched your career with some interest. You show great promise. Of course, the fates have not always matched the appropriate reward to the services you have rendered the Emperor…'

That's putting it mildly, Cato thought, but he nodded modestly.

'You are here because you know about the scrolls, and I need to know that I can trust you, and your friend Macro with that knowledge. I'm sure you understand the need for secrecy, and you have nothing to gain from breathing a word about the scrolls. Indeed, you have everything to lose. Which means I will not have to arrange for both of you to be silenced. That would be a terrible waste of talent. Talent the Empire can ill afford to waste.' Narcissus stretched back in his chair and smiled at Cato.

Cato's heart beat faster as a thought struck him. 'Does that mean I am no longer under sentence of death?'

Narcissus nodded. 'I will give instructions that the sentence be rescinded the moment this meeting is over.'

'Centurion Macro's in the clear as well?'

'Yes.'

'Then we will be available for reappointment to the legions.'

'What else should I do with two such fine officers?'

It was as if a great knot had been loosened in Cato's chest and he could breathe freely again. There was an instant of indignant outrage that he should ever have been the subject of such a judgement in the first place. Then he relented and relished the sense of relief Narcissus' words had given him. The anxiety was over. The shadow of the executioner that had stalked him for months faded away and he felt the great comfort of a man who can look forward to the future again. Soon he and Macro would be back where they belonged: serving with the Eagles.

'We have an understanding then, Centurion? You will not breathe a word about the scrolls to another person as long as you live.'

'Yes, sir.' Cato nodded solemnly. 'You have my word. I'm sure I can speak for Macro as well.'

'I'm sure you can.'

There was a knock at the door, and Narcissus turned towards it. 'Come!'

The servant entered the room and bowed. 'Food and wine have been prepared for these gentlemen, sir.'

'Very well.'

The servant dipped his head and retreated from the room and Narcissus turned back to his visitors.

'There. I think that concludes our business. I'll have your reports as soon as they're ready. You can leave them with my clerk.'

He rose from his chair, and the others rose as well. Then Narcissus ushered them to the door where he clasped hands with Vespasian and bowed his head in respect.'Once again, my profound gratitude for all that you have accomplished.'

Vespasian nodded tiredly, and left the room. Cato was standing slightly behind and to the side of Vitellius as the Imperial Secretary took his arm and made his farewell. Narcissus bowed, and Vitellius dipped his head forward in acknowledgement. As he did so Cato could not help noticing a purple birthmark on Vitellius' arm just below the hem of his tunic. It was not the mark so much as its shape that caught the centurion's eye – an almost perfect crescent just over an inch long, shaped like a hunting bow.

'Farewell for now, Vitellius,' Narcissus was saying. 'Good fortune go with you.'

Vitellius smiled back. 'Oh, I'm sure it will.'

AUTHOR'S NOTE

The imperial Roman navy has attracted far less research than the legions and there are very few pieces of evidence that have survived to give us a truly accurate view of the ships. For those readers keen to read more about the navy I suggest obtaining a brief overview from Peter Connolly's excellent Greece and Rome at War. Beyond that there is a hard-to-find but very worthy read in Chester Starr's The Imperial Roman Navy.

There are a few conscious deviations from historical fact. Firstly, I have used the more recent terms of 'port' and 'starboard' to give our Roman sailors some nautical ambience. Secondly, the moving of the Ravenna fleet's base closer to the trading port. In reality the Roman naval bases were kept at a distance from the confusion of commercial shipping. However, I didn't want to tire Macro and Cato out in any long walks into town for a drink!

In addition to the two huge naval bases at Misenum and Ravenna there were additional flotillas scattered around the frontiers of the Empire. The fleets were charged with guarding the sea lanes and providing ad hoc military forces that could be landed wherever there was an urgent need for an armed presence.

Piracy was a fact of life for the seamen and merchants of the Ancient World. Indeed, in the first century BC pirates were boldly landing on the Italian peninsula to abduct travellers on the Appian Way. This hubristic attitude reached its zenith with a raid into the harbour at Ostia, in which the pirates burned a fleet of Roman warships. The audacious act proved to be one step too far for the Roman Senate, who hurriedly empowered Pompey the Great to raise a vast fleet to rid the sea of pirates. This he did in a whirlwind campaign of three months. Thereafter, pirates were forced to operate on a far smaller scale and men like Telemachus would represent an occasional threat to the sea lanes. The action between the Ravenna fleet and the ships of Telemachus would be dwarfed by the scale of the naval actions of the Punic and civil wars.

In this respect, the historic mission of the imperial navy was an unqualified success for nearly three centuries. As Chester Starr notes, their task was 'not to fight battles but to render them impossible'.

Despite Hollywood's representations of Roman galleys being propelled by chains of slaves, the reality is more likely to have been something along the lines of the Renaissance galleys, in which the men at the oars were a mixture of slaves and free men who were paid for their duties.