The Eagle's Prophecy

by Simon Scarrow

  They reached the landing and walked softly towards the door. Vitellius raised his fist and tapped on the rough wooden surface with his knuckles. Then he lifted the latch, pushed the door back gently and entered the dimly lit chamber. Ajax was sitting at the desk once again and he looked up with a sardonic smile as the tribune entered the room, closely followed by Trebius. Wrapped in a tightening sense of despair Vitellius could not help a surge of anger at the young man’s expression.

  ‘What are you grinning at? Where—’

  There was a dull thud and Trebius gave an explosive gasp. Vitellius immediately turned and saw a look of intense surprise etched into the bodyguard’s face. Both men glanced down at the bloody tip of a sword protruding a finger’s length from his chest. Then Trebius convulsed as he was thrust from behind, and the blade disappeared, leaving a gaping tear in the front of his tunic. An instant later the material was drenched in dark blood. There was another convulsion, and Trebius slumped to his knees. Vitellius looked up and saw Centurion Minucius emerging from the shadow behind the door, bloodstained sword in hand. Trebius’ head lolled back and to the side and he looked puzzled as his eyes fixed on Minucius. Then they glazed over and he toppled over.

  Vitellius hesitated a moment too long before his hand shot to the sword hanging at his side, and Minucius stepped forward, and pointed his sword at the tribune’s throat.

  ‘Don’t! Keep you fingers off that weapon.’

  Ajax stood up and hurried over and Vitellius saw that he too carried a sword. There was no way he could fight his way out of the situation, and he lowered his hand to his side. He glared at Minucius.

  ‘What is the meaning of this treachery?’

  Minucius smiled. ‘Come now. Someone with a mind like yours must be able to figure this out.’

  ‘What are you talking about? What—’

  ‘Quiet, Tribune.’ Minucius kept his eyes fixed on Vitellius as he addressed his remarks to Ajax. ‘Go and get some men. And send for your father.’

  The pirate nodded to Minucius before he hurried from the chamber and then they heard his feet thudding quickly down the stairs.

  Vitellius looked at the centurion with narrowed, calculating eyes. ‘What did Ajax promise you? Money? A way out of here? You couldn’t have fallen for that?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Minucius chuckled. ‘In any case, I’ve already had more than enough money from his father…’

  ‘His father?’ Vitellius frowned, then the truth hit him like a slingshot to the head. His eyes widened as he raised a finger at the centurion. ‘The traitor. The one that has been plaguing the fleet’s every step…you?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘You said it yourself. I’m coming up for my discharge. I’ve been dreading it for the last few years. My savings were going to be just enough to eke out my retirement in comfort. But who wants comfort when you could have luxury? So I cut a deal with Telemachus, and have been selling him information for the last year. I’ve got enough stashed away to live very well. Now you’ve provided me with a chance for a little extra. I imagine Telemachus is going to be grateful to the man who returned his son to him. And handed him a high-ranking hostage into the bargain.’

  ‘You bastard…’

  Minucius laughed and shook his head. ‘Tribune, don’t act so indignant. Why are you here in the first place? It doesn’t exactly have much to do with integrity and loyal service to the Empire. Those scrolls over there, whatever they are, you were not going to use them for the benefit of the Emperor, were you?’

  ‘Not the present Emperor, no.’ Vitellius’ lips flickered into a smile. ‘So what’s your price, Minucius?’

  ‘Price?’

  ‘To get me out of here’

  ‘We aren’t going to get out of here. It’s too late. It’ll be light soon and there won’t be any chance of making it back to the fleet. And if we’re stuck here, then the pirates were going to find us soon enough. So I decided that it was time I left your employment.’

  They heard Ajax’s voice shouting orders down in the courtyard and Vitellius licked his lips nervously and took a step closer to the centurion. ‘Look we can make a deal.’

  Minucius stepped back and raised his sword. ‘Keep your distance!’

  ‘Listen to me! I can make you rich, far richer than you can imagine.’

  The heavy sound of feet pounding up the staircase made both men glance towards the door, and Minucius shook his head. ‘Sorry, Tribune–no negotiations. You’ve just run out of time.’

  The door burst open, and Ajax and several pirates swept into the room, swords drawn, ready to strike. Ajax thrust Vitellius back, steering him into the corner where he fell on to the bed. Then he barked an order and two of the pirates came over and stood guard.

  Ajax turned to Minucius. ‘I’ve sent a man for my father. He’ll be here soon. In the meantime, drop your sword.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Drop your sword and stand over there by the table, hands on your head where we can see them.’

  ‘But I’m on your side. I told you.’

  ‘We’ll see. Now drop the sword.’

  Minucius shook his head and Ajax stabbed a finger at it. ‘Drop it! Or my men will drop you.’

  Minucius’ lips tightened into a bitter expression. Then he threw the sword down at Ajax’s feet, brushed past one of the pirates and strode over to the desk where he turned and thrust his hands on his head.

  ‘There! Satisfied? I don’t think Telemachus is going to be, when he see’s how you’ve treated me.’

  ‘Leave my father to me,’ Ajax said in a soft, menacing voice. ‘And if you’re lying then I’ll see to it that you die painfully.’

  There was a chuckle from the far corner of the room as Vitellius sat himself up and pressed his back into the corner of the chamber. ‘Seems like you’re in the shit as much as me, Centurion.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Tribune. You’ll see. Soon as Telemachus gets here.’

  ‘Quiet!’ Ajax shouted. ‘Both of you.’

  They waited in silence, under the watchful gaze of the pirates, and outside the grey gleam of the coming dawn filtered through the open shutter. In the distance they could hear the regular crack and crash of the Roman onagers, while the sound of the wagon being loaded echoed up from the courtyard walls. By the time they heard the sound of someone climbing the stairs, the sky outside was washed with the rosy glow of the first rays of the sun. Footsteps approached along the corridor and then Telemachus strode through the open doorway, eyes glancing round the chamber and instantly fixing on Vitellius, and then Minucius. A look of surprise flashed across his face.

  ‘Centurion? What are you doing here?’

  ‘It couldn’t be helped. Your boy was taken prisoner and the tribune there wanted to use him to get into the citadel. I was given the choice of helping him out or being killed. So I had to go along with them. Once we got here I set your son loose at the first chance and turned the tables on them.’ He nodded towards the bodies of Trebius and Silus.

  Telemachus gave the centurion a sceptical look and then glanced at his son with a raised eyebrow. Ajax nodded.

  ‘I see…Well, you’ve not picked the best of times to end our little arrangement.’

  ‘End the arrangement?’ Minucius said anxiously. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’d find it difficult to return to your side now without arousing any suspicions. And, as you will have noted, your fleet is about to storm this citadel. How do you think they will react if they find you here, amongst the enemy? You’re no use to me as a spy now, Centurion. But, I will do you no harm. You can fight alongside my men, and perhaps win back some of the honour you have defiled by betraying your people.’

  ‘There’s no need for that!’ Minucius started forward, but one of the pirates stepped menacingly towards him and the centurion raised a hand to show he meant no harm to the pirate chief. ‘Telemachus, there’s a boat hidden at the base of the cliff. It’s big enough to hold yo
u, your son and two or three other men, or a few valuables.’ He looked meaningfully at the chests lying about the table, their treasures gleaming inside them. ‘You can’t see the boat from the sea, or from the top of the cliff. We can hide there, wait until dark and slip out of the bay, with some of your treasure. You can start again, somewhere else.’

  Minucius sounded desperate and Telemachus looked at him with pity and disgust. ‘It hasn’t come to that yet. Meanwhile I’ll fight your marines the moment the first one sticks his nose over whatever’s left of our walls. This boat of yours will be my last resort. We’ll go to it when the time comes, and take some of the loot with us.’ Telemachus turned to the tribune. ‘Is that what you’ve come for? My fortune?’

  ‘He came for the scrolls,’ Minucius interrupted, pointing at the chest on the table. ‘In that box. That’s all he wanted.’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ Telemachus replied quietly as he looked at the tribune again. ‘So who are you working for? I’ve already met the agent sent by the Liberators. So is it the Emperor? Or yourself?’

  Vitellius drew himself up stiffly. ‘I serve Emperor Claudius! I am his most trusted agent. If anything happens to me, you can be sure the Emperor will hunt you down and have you killed like dogs!’

  ‘I’m sure he would pay a pretty ransom for you,’ mused Telemachus.

  Desperation gleamed in the tribune’s face. ‘Count on it!’

  ‘Then we might have some use for you…’ Telemachus scratched his chin for a moment and was about to speak again when a horn note blared across the citadel.

  Minucius turned towards the sound, straining his ears as more notes sounded. But these were more distant and lighter, and with a thrill of fear he recognised the sound. ‘Those are Roman horns! They’re starting the assault!’

  Telemachus snapped some orders to his men. At once two of the pirates sheathed their weapons, closed in on Vitellius and began to tie him to the bed.

  ‘What will you do to him, Father?’ asked Ajax in Greek.

  ‘I’m not sure. He might be useful.’

  Ajax gripped his father’s arm and continued, ‘If we survive this attack, let me be the one to kill him.’

  ‘Kill him? Kill a valuable hostage?’

  ‘Father, he tortured me. He humiliated me. He made me tell him about those scrolls. I must have vengeance…’ Ajax pleaded.

  ‘Later. We must go to the walls. Come! You too, Roman. If the Romans break into the city, we’ll come back for some gold and make for this boat of yours.’

  Telemachus hurried from the room. Ajax followed after him. Only Minucius remained, alone with the bodies of Vitellius’ bodyguards. He took a last look at the treasure, shook his head sadly. ‘Oh, Portia…what the hell have I got myself into?’

  Then with an angry growl Minucius snatched up his sword and set off after the pirates.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  ‘What do you mean, he’s gone?’ Vespasian asked.

  The staff officer shook his head. ‘I don’t know, sir. He’s not there. Nor is Centurion Minucius. Nor are the sentries.’

  ‘All of them gone?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the tribune replied helplesly.

  Vespasian glared at him, then exploded. ‘That’s impossible! What the bloody hell is going on here? Damn it! I’ll see for myself.’

  He burst out of the headquarters tent into the predawn gloom and strode down through the camp towards the ships drawn up on the beach. As he approached the trireme a small crowd of onlookers clustered about at the water’s edge watching all the activity on deck where scores of marines and a handful of officers were searching the vessel for signs of the prisoner and the centurion tasked with guarding him.

  ‘Out of my way!’ Vespasian bellowed, and the small crowd hurriedly moved aside to make way for the prefect. He climbed halfway up the gangway and turned angrily towards them. ‘Stop gawping and get back to the camp!’

  Vespasian continued up the gangway and jumped down on to the deck with a thud, and the men, turning towards the sound, snapped to attention at once. Centurion Macro was standing by the forward hatch, listening to reports from his marines, and the prefect marched straight over to him.

  ‘Well? What the hell is going on, Centurion?’

  Macro saluted. ‘Prisoner’s escaped, sir.’

  ‘I know. So explain yourself. He was left in your charge.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Macro winced. ‘I gave orders for Centurion Minucius to guard the prisoner overnight. I made it clear that Ajax must be watched closely and must come to no harm. Two men were left to guard the gangway, sir. There shouldn’t have been any problems.’

  ‘But now both of them are gone.’ Vespasian shook his head. ‘Sterling work, Centurion.’

  Macro said nothing.

  ‘When did this mess come to your attention?’

  ‘Just before dawn, sir. I came down here with Centurion Cato to relieve Minucius and his men and collect the prisoner. Soon as we saw that the sentries had gone I knew there was something wrong.’

  ‘Very alert of you. So where’s Cato now?’

  ‘Down in the hold, sir. Where the prisoner was.’

  ‘Show me.’

  Macro led the way through the hatch opening and down the stairs, ducking his head under the thick timber of the coaming. The two officers squinted in the gloom and Vespasian wrinkled his nose at the stench rising from the bilges. The odour had been bad enough on deck, but down here it was overpowering and he wondered that men could work in such conditions. Ahead there was a pool of broken light beneath a deck grating, which revealed the huddled form of Cato leaning over one of the massive timbers of the trireme’s ribs.

  ‘Cato!’ Macro called out. ‘Prefect’s here.’

  Cato quickly scrambled to his feet and stood to attention, head canted forward to avoid striking the deck above. He exchanged a salute with the prefect, then Vespasian glanced around the cramped hold.

  ‘This is the place where the prisoner was being held?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Over here.’ Cato indicated an iron ring lying on the deck. Beside it was a large nail. ‘Someone’s tried to make up a bed over there.’ Cato nodded to a pile of rope and canvas on the opposite side of the hold. ‘That’s where Centurion Minucius must have been.’

  ‘I see. So what happened?’

  Cato shrugged. ‘I can’t say for sure, sir.’

  ‘All right then,’ Vespasian continued patiently. ‘What do you think happened?’

  Cato squatted down and picked up the iron ring, then pointed to a place on the rib that had been gouged out and was surrounded by splinters. ‘That’s where he was chained up to the ring bolt, sir. He could have waited for Minucius to fall asleep and then used that nail to work the bolt loose.’

  Vespasian inspected the timber and nodded. ‘What do you think happened to Minucius?’

  ‘Hard to say, sir. I’ve found no blood, so far.’

  ‘The prisoner might have dropped the centurion over the side.’

  Cato nodded towards Macro. ‘We thought of that, sir. Same goes for the missing sentries, so I had some men swim round the hull. The water’s clear enough, but they didn’t find any bodies. My guess is that Ajax took Minucius with him.’

  ‘A prisoner? Why?’

  ‘Perhaps Ajax needed him to talk his way through any watch-boats they came across, sir.’

  Vespasian stared back. ‘Unlikely…What if Minucius went of his own accord?’

  Macro stirred uneasily. ‘Are you suggesting he let the prisoner go, sir? Why would he do that?’

  ‘No,’ Cato interrupted. ‘Ajax escaped. How else do you explain the ring bolt? It’s clear that someone had to work it free.’

  Vespasian scratched his chin. ‘Perhaps it’s been made to look that way.’

  ‘That’s a possibility, sir,’ Cato nodded. ‘But do you think it’s likely?’

  Before Vespasian could reply there was a shout up on deck, and moments later boots thudded down the gangway of the main hatch. A m
arine squinted into the gloom and saluted as he caught sight of the prefect.

  ‘Sir, we’ve found the sentries.’

  Vespasian and the two centurions hurried after the marine as they climbed up to the deck and went forward. The marines were helping two men out of the anchor cable locker and as they approached Cato could see the bright red weals around the men’s wrists and ankles as they stood unsteadily to attention.

  ‘What happened?’ Vespasian snapped at them. ‘Make your report!’

  The two men glanced at each other nervously before one, the older man, replied, ‘We was on guard duty last night, sir. About the fifth hour we saw someone approaching. We made the challenge, but it was Tribune Vitellius, sir.

  ‘Vitellius? Are you certain?’

  ‘Sure as I’m standing in front of you, sir. The tribune, and two men. Think they was those two bodyguards of his, sir. Anyway, he told us he had been ordered to fetch the prisoner. So we let ’em pass.’ His gaze dropped to his feet. ‘That’s when it happened, sir.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘His bodyguards jumped us. Laid my mate out and knocked me down. They took us on board, trussed us up and dumped us in this locker, sir.’

  ‘I see…Did they give you the correct password?’

  The marine looked surprised at the question. ‘Well, no, sir. I recognised the tribune so I didn’t see the need to.’

  ‘Centurion Macro!’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Give these men a month of fatigues. Latrine duty. Maybe next time, they’ll have the sense to stick to password protocol.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You can deal with them later. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. You and Cato come with me.’

  They climbed down the gangway to the beach and strode towards the onagers, still lobbing rocks at the distant wall of the citadel. Even though the sun had not yet risen Cato could clearly see that the gatehouse had all but collapsed and rubble from the breach almost filled the ditch outside the wall. Already, the missiles arcing forward from the Roman lines were striking the buildings beyond the wall and tiny figures were attempting to barricade the end of the street behind the breach.