The Eagle's Prophecy

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing to tell you.’

  Macro looked at his young friend intently, and wasn’t convinced. ‘Nothing you’re willing to tell me, you mean. Well, be a bloody obstinate fool and keep it to yourself then. You always do…’ The veteran patted Cato gently on the arm. ‘Just be careful, eh?’

  Macro moved closer to the shore and stared at the boat, which had lowered its sail. Two long sweeps were thrust out from each beam and the crew rowed the remaining distance towards the shore. At the last moment the oars rose up and the crew shifted them round to punt the bows up on to the beach. A small wave carried the craft on to the shingle where it grounded with a scraping crunch. The men at the rear of the boat advanced along the deck and clambered over the bows to dry land. There were six of them, mostly young staff officers; no doubt aristocrats working their way through their first military apprenticeships. A short distance behind them was an older man, dressed in a simple tunic and thick military cloak. Cato and Macro recognised him instantly and looked at each other in surprise.

  ‘Vespasian?’ Macro shook his head. ‘What the hell is he doing here?’

  Cato had no idea. He was as surprised as his friend to see their old commander again. The last time had been months before, when they had accompanied the legate on their return from Britain. Cato and Macro turned to glance at Vitellius. Two years earlier the prefect had served as a tribune under Vespasian and there had been intense and bitter rivalry between them.

  Vitellius took a sharp breath and waved a hand at the officers around him. ‘Follow me!’

  The party from the fleet strode down the beach towards the new arrivals while Vespasian and his tribunes drew themselves up and waited a few paces above the waterline.

  ‘Sir!’ Vitellius called out, and forced a smile. ‘What brings you here?’

  Vespasian appeared to be equally cordial as he extended his hand and the two officers clasped arms. ‘The Imperial Secretary sent me. I’ll introduce my staff officers later. But first we need to talk. Narcissus wants to know how the operation is proceeding.’

  Vitellius frowned. ‘But I sent him a report. He must have received it several days ago. Unless…’ He glanced round at Cato.

  ‘The report arrived safely,’ said Vespasian. ‘Narcissus thanks you for it, but in view of the, er, complexity of the situation he wanted to send someone to assess the progress you’re making first-hand. Since we have served together before, Narcissus gave me the job.’ Vespasian smiled. ‘So here I am, reluctantly.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘On the way in I noticed that you’ve met with some success at least.’ Vespasian turned and indicated the promontory.

  ‘That? My men set a trap for the pirates. We took three of their ships and a few prisoners, including a man close to their leader, Telemachus. I was questioning him when I had word of your approach. The rest I had executed to serve as a warning to the pirates and to encourage our own men.’

  ‘A warning to the pirates?’ Vespasian mused. ‘Then they must be close at hand.’

  ‘They keep us under observation,’ Vitellius admitted warily.

  ‘Really? Well, let’s not waste any time,’ Vespasian continued in a lighter tone. ‘It’s been a long and uncomfortable journey. My tribunes and I could do with some refreshment.’

  ‘Of course.’ Vitellius turned round to one of his staff officers. ‘Run back to my quarters. I want a tent prepared. Food and wine for all senior officers and our guests as soon as possible. Go.’

  As the man ran off Vespasian cast his eye over the fortifications lining the beach, and the fleet anchored in the bay or beached on the shingle. ‘You’ve made a good job of the fortifications. Looks like an excellent base from which to conduct operations.’

  Vitellius bowed his head graciously.

  ‘Mind if my staff and I have a look round before we take advantage of your hospitality? It’ll give your men a chance to make the proper arrangements.’ Vespasian smiled.

  ‘Of course, I’d be happy to—’

  Vespasian raised a hand to interrupt the prefect. ‘I’ve imposed enough on you already.’ Vespasian glanced round at Vitellius’ officers before he singled Cato out. ‘Centurion Cato! Good to see you again. Would you be kind enough to act as our guide?’

  ‘I’d be honoured, sir.’

  ‘Thank you. Prefect Vitellius, we’ll join you in a short while.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it, sir.’

  Without a further word Vespasian moved off along the beach, Cato at his side, while his staff officers kept a short distance behind. Vitellius watched them closely for a moment, smiling as he relished the harsh punishment that would shortly be inflicted on Centurion Cato. The report he had sent back to Rome had been completely unambigious in pointing out Cato’s dereliction of duty. Vespasian would surely be carrying a warrant for the young officer’s death. But while the removal of Centurion Cato was a satisfying prospect, it was deeply worrying that Narcissus had sent Vespasian to assess his progress. Clearly the carefully worded description of the early stages of the campaign had not succeeded in pulling the wool over the Imperial Secretary’s eyes. Vespasian would have to be handled carefully if the true scale of the disaster was to be concealed from Narcissus. Vitellius turned round and beckoned to Macro.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Get back to the prisoner. Clean him up and take him somewhere safe and secure and out of earshot of Vespasian.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Vitellius stared in silence at the retreating backs of Vespasian and his party for a moment longer, then he turned away and strode into the camp.

  As soon as he had finished inspecting the shore defences Vespasian dismissed his staff officers and ordered Cato to take him around the outside of the ramparts. When they were a safe distance from the palisade Vespasian turned to the centurion and spoke bluntly.

  ‘All right then, time to dispense with the pleasantries. The Imperial Secretary hit the ceiling when he read the prefect’s report. An imperial fleet almost defeated by a bunch of pirates. Hundreds of lives lost and valuable equipment sent to the bottom of the sea. And when I passed through Ravenna, the place was on the verge of anarchy. I had to send to Arminium for a cohort of auxiliaries just to keep the lid on the situation. When news of that gets back to the palace Vitellius had better make sure his affairs are in order and his will is written.’

  ‘It’s that serious, sir?’

  ‘The prefect might survive if we can defeat these pirates quickly, and find those scrolls. At least his report had the virtue of being honest and not trying to cover up for the mess he’s made of things. That might just save him.’

  Cato winced. There seemed to be no end to Vitellius’ good fortune. You could drop him off the Tarpeian Rock and he would land on his feet.

  ‘Centurion, I need to know exactly what the situation is here,’ Vespasian continued. ‘Prefect Vitellius is supposed to be on a punitive mission, taking the offensive right to the door of the pirates’ lair. Instead, I feel as if I’ve just arrived in a bloody besieged city. How the hell did it get to this? Speak plainly. I suspect I don’t have to worry about you covering up for this particular superior officer, given your past experience of Vitellius.’

  Cato returned his superior’s knowing smile and quickly marshalled his thoughts as they slowly walked along the perimeter of the defences.

  ‘We’ve lost a quarter of our strength in total, including wounded. Many of the ships are damaged and since Vitellius has kept on the defensive it hasn’t helped the morale of the men.’ Cato paused and pointed towards the treeline on a hill no more than a mile distant. ‘Worse still, the enemy have got troops out there, harassing our foraging parties and having the odd shot at sentries during the night. The pirates have faster ships and better crews and they’ve eluded every attempt to chase them down.’ Cato gestured towards the distant crosses on the headland. ‘That’s the only success we’ve had since the start of the campaign, sir.’

  ‘
What happened?’

  ‘We set a trap in a cove further up the coast. They took the bait and paid the price.’

  Vespasian looked at him shrewdly. ‘Whose idea was that? Yours?’

  ‘I was there,’ Cato replied. ‘It was simple enough.’

  ‘Maybe. But you did it, while the prefect sat on his arse in the camp. That’s the point.’

  ‘Well, someone had to do something, sir.’

  ‘Don’t be such a fool,’ Vespasian said sharply. ‘Don’t apologise, Cato. As far as I can see, you’re about the only who has done anything useful here. Is there anything else I should know?’

  ‘Well, sir, it’s possible we may have discovered where the pirates are operating from.’

  Vespasian stopped and stared at him. ‘You tell me that now?’

  ‘One of the prisoners we took the other night was the son of Telemachus. The prefect had an interrogator go to work on him earlier this afternoon. He gave us a location.’

  ‘Do you think he’s telling the truth?’

  Cato shrugged. ‘I don’t know, sir. He’s got some guts. He might be lying to us to buy time for his father and their men. On the other hand, the interrogator was doing a pretty good job of breaking him down.’

  Vespasian regarded the centurion closely. ‘Did he mention anything about the scrolls?’

  Cato felt his pulse quicken and decided at that instant to chance his arm. He fought to keep his voice calm. ‘Scrolls, sir? The Delphic scrolls?’

  Vespasian was silent for a moment before he replied, ‘So you know? I was told that only the prefect had been informed.’

  Cato thought quickly. ‘The Imperial Secretary told us about them when he briefed us for this mission.’

  ‘Us? You mean Centurion Macro knows about them as well?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ There had been no time to think of anything else to say and Cato prayed that he had not placed his friend in any peril.

  ‘I see…You’d best be careful, both of you. Knowledge of the scrolls is a dangerous thing.’

  ‘But, sir, it’s not as if no one knows about them, nor what they contain. The priests in the temple of Jupiter have been consulting them for hundreds of years.’

  ‘The first three books, yes. But imagine how much happier they’ll be if they get their hands on the other three, and see the full picture.’ Vespasian turned to look out to sea, towards Italy and Rome. He sounded wistful when he spoke. ‘I imagine that quite a few people would give anything to possess the missing scrolls…’

  Cato’s mind was still racing to deal with the implications of what Vespasian had just told him. The other three Delphic scrolls? It was impossible. They had been destroyed, burned by the Oracle. Or were supposed to have been. But if they existed, they would be a potent weapon for any ambitious man in Rome with an eye to exploiting the superstitions of the mob. Any man like Vitellius, or…A cold sensation trickled down Cato’s spine as he regarded Vespasian. At that moment, the senator turned back to the centurion and for a moment Cato thought he detected a hint of pity in Vespasian’s face. Then the senator’s expression hardened.

  ‘Well, Narcissus must have had his reasons for telling you. In any case, you’ll understand their importance. And why they cannot be permitted to fall into any else’s hands, least of all the enemies of the Emperor.’

  Cato nodded.

  ‘Very well.’ Vespasian looked round at the hills nearby, at the shadows in the treeline of the wood that sprawled up the slopes. Then he turned and looked at the camp, fixing his eyes on a sentry glancing nervously over the palisade as he patrolled along the rampart. Vespasian shook his head. ‘I’ve seen enough. It’s time to act.’

  Vitellius looked at the senator in shock. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘I am,’ Vespasian replied firmly. ‘By the authority vested in me by Emperor Claudius and the Senate and People of Rome, I hereby relieve you of command and assume your rank and authority as prefect of the fleet of Ravenna.’

  There was a stunned silence in the tent as the assembled officers watched the confrontation. For a moment Vitellius did not respond, as if in a trance. Then he shook his head and stiffened his back. ‘No. You don’t have the authority to do that.’

  ‘Yes I do.’ Vespasian turned to one of his tribunes and clicked his fingers. ‘Decius, the authorisation, please.’

  The tribune reached a hand under his breastplate and extracted a folded sheet of papyrus. He handed it to Vespasian who, after he had carefully opened the document, offered it to Vitellius.

  ‘Read it.’

  Vitellius stared at the document for a moment, as if it was poisonous. Then he reached out and took it. Vespasian’s authority was confirmed by Emperor Claudius himself and written in an unusually terse manner. Nevertheless it was clear enough concerning the all-embracing power conferred on the new commander of the Ravenna fleet. Vitellius folded the document and handed it back.

  ‘Congratulations, sir,’ he said in a tone laden with bitterness. ‘The fleet is yours to command…Might I ask what is to become of me?’

  Vespasian had anticipated the question and had his reply ready. Under the terms of his authority Vespasian could have Vitellius arrested and condemned for incompetence. He could even have him executed if he wished. But in either case there would be difficult questions to answer when he returned to Rome. Even though the Emperor’s favourite had made a disastrous mess of the campaign, Claudius was still fond of him. Fond enough to exact a revenge on the man responsible for destroying his protégé. And if Vitellius lived, he was sure to smooth-talk himself back into favour, and pose a danger to Vespasian in the future.

  Vespasian had little choice. Vitellius had to stay with the fleet for the rest of the campaign, where Vespasian could keep an eye on him. Besides, with a bit of luck, and a judicious allocation of duties, Vitellius might well be killed and then Vespasian’s problem would be solved.

  He stared at Vitellius for a long time, as if weighing up the man’s fate, before he responded.

  ‘You stay here. Given the losses suffered as a result of your decisions, I’ll need every man who can hold a sword. For now, I’ll keep you on my staff. But you’ll go into the line the moment the fighting starts.’

  Vitellius bowed his head.

  Vespasian looked round the tent at the other officers, many of whom were still astonished by the extraordinary event unfolding before them. ‘No other man will be held culpable for the failure of the fleet thus far. You will all continue in your current posts. Bear in mind, though, that back in Rome there is considerable displeasure with your performance. You have a chance, gentlemen, to set the record straight; to win back your honour and the honour of the fleet. I advise you to think on that. From tomorrow we take the fight to the pirates.’

  A murmur of approval rippled through the officers. Then Vespasian nodded towards Macro and Cato. ‘There are some here who have served under me before. They know that I drive my men hard. But they also know that I am fair. Serve me, as they have served me, and we will win. We will kill or capture every last pirate and destroy their ships and their base. And when it’s all over there will be booty for all of us that survive. But if you fail me, in any way, you can expect no mercy. Gentlemen, do we have an understanding?’

  The officers nodded, and some muttered in affirmation.

  ‘Very well. The party’s over. Get back to your units and get ready to move. We’re breaking camp tomorrow and heading up the coast. There’ll be no questions at this time, gentlemen. You’re dismissed…Centurions Macro and Cato stay where you are. I’ve got a little job for you.’

  As the other officers filed through the tent flaps Macro leaned closer to his friend and whispered, ‘Any idea what that’s about?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Great. Just great.’ Macro shook his head. ‘I’ll bet good money that it’s the shit end of the stick for us once again.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Two nights later the yacht that Vespasian had commandeered lan
ded the two centurions ten miles down the coast from the area known as the Gates of Stone. Cato and Macro wore grey tunics, and carried their swords and rations for three days. The instructions from the new prefect of the Ravenna fleet were clear enough. They were to reconnoitre the area and try to locate the base of the pirates. If, indeed, it was there. Ajax had been promised new torments if it turned out he was lying. Cato and Macro were not to attempt any heroics and must ensure that they were not seen by the enemy. The yacht would wait for them in a secluded bay a few miles closer to the Gates of Stone.

  While the two centurions scouted the area the main force under Vespasian was slowly advancing up the coast behind them. The warships had been readied for imminent battle. Any equipment that Vespasian had decided was not essential for the operation was left at the beachhead. Five of the biremes, damaged in the fight with Telemachus, were burned on the shore to deny them any use to the pirates. One bireme was sent back to Ravenna with those men who were too badly wounded to be of any use for the rest of the campaign.

  The fleet made occasional sightings of sails far out to the horizon, but the enemy was content to simply keep them under observation and not risk battle. Vespasian was mindful of the possibility that the pirates might have spies within his force as well as back in Ravenna and made sure that the watch was doubled on the walls of the camp each night. The sentries were ordered to keep watch both outside and inside the camp in case anyone attempted to communicate with the pirates. At present there would be little to report which the pirates could not see for themselves, but when the decisive moment of the campaign came Vespasian would need to move swiftly and surprise the enemy. They must not receive an advance warning.

  Vespasian knew that he was taking a risk that the pirate base might not be where Ajax claimed it was, but the location seemed logical. Down towards Risinium, the coastline was well settled and offered few places to conceal a pirate fleet. In the other direction, the coastline became a maze of islands and deep bays flanked by forbidding mountains. That’s where Telemachus and his pirates would be holed up. Far enough from the trade routes to remain invisible to passing ships, yet close enough to venture out and continue the raids that had caused Rome so much embarrassment over recent months. If Ajax’s information was accurate the campaign should be settled in a matter of days. If the information was false then Vespasian would make sure that his next round of interrogation and torture produced the right result, no matter how much time and agony it took.