The Eagle's Conquest

by Simon Scarrow

  Her head popped through the top of the tunic and she tugged the long tresses of her hair free of the neckline. ‘What kind of a favour?’

  ‘It’s a surprise for the Emperor. I need you to take something into the banquet for me tomorrow night.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s over there on that table,’ he said quietly, pointing across the tent to a low, black, marble-topped side table in the far corner. Lavinia went over and picked up an object that glinted as she raised it into the glow cast by the oil lamps. It was a dagger, sheathed in silver inlaid with gold in swirling Celtic patterns, within which were set blood-red rubies. The handle of the dagger was jet black and polished to a high shine, with a huge ruby set into the gold at the end of the pommel.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’ Lavinia marvelled. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this. Never. Where did you get it?’

  ‘My father sent it to me. It’s a gift for the Emperor. I was told to present it to him as soon as we’d taken Camulodunum. Bring it here.’

  Lavinia returned to the bed, carrying the dagger with reverence. ‘Such a lovely thing. The Emperor will adore it.’

  ‘That’s what my father hopes. And I think it is the kind of gift that is best presented with some sense of occasion. So I thought I might hand it to the Emperor at the height of tomorrow’s celebrations, before all his guests, so that they can see Claudius’ reaction to my father’s symbol of loyalty and affection.’

  ‘They’ll die of jealousy.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Vitellius. ‘That’s why I need you to do me a favour.’

  ‘What kind of a favour?’

  ‘I need you to carry this into the banquet for me. No one is admitted into the Emperor’s presence carrying a blade of any kind. His guards will be searching all the formal guests, but you can get into the banquet through the kitchen. All you need to do is hide it like this.’ He reached under her tunic and pressed the scabbard against the inside of her thigh. Lavinia gasped and then laughed. ‘You’ll have to strap it in place. No one will know it’s there.’

  Lavinia took hold of the scabbard again and regarded it with a worried expression.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘What happens if I get searched and they find it on me?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Lavinia. I’ll be close by. If anything like that happens before I get the dagger back from you, I’ll intervene and explain everything.’

  Lavinia looked intently into his face. ‘What if you don’t?’

  Vitellius’ expression changed to a mixture of hurt and anger. ‘Why would I want to get you into any kind of trouble?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Exactly. I’m hardly likely to endanger the woman I love, am I?’ He reached his arms round her and pulled her towards his chest, waiting until her body felt more relaxed before he continued. ‘Once you’re inside, waiting on Lady Flavia and Vespasian, I’ll find you and retrieve the dagger, as quickly as I can.’

  ‘Not too publicly I hope!’

  ‘Of course not. It wouldn’t be seemly for a member of my class to be seen to be groping a slave in public.’

  ‘Thanks for the concern about my reputation,’ Lavinia replied bitterly.

  ‘Only joking, my sweet. We’ll just have to find somewhere quiet for me to retrieve it.’ He squeezed her affectionately. ‘Will you do this for me? It’ll mean a lot to my father, and it’ll help my career along.’

  ‘What’s in it for me?’

  ‘As soon as I get my share of the booty I swear I’ll buy you from Flavia. Afterwards we can see about having you manumitted.’

  ‘Nice thought. But why should Flavia want to sell me?’

  ‘I don’t think she’d be wise to refuse me,’ Vitellius replied quietly. ‘Besides, I can present you to the Emperor at the banquet and ask that he makes you my reward for saving the Second Legion from Togodumnus. Vespasian could hardly refuse that. It’d look appallingly ungrateful. Just watch for my signal, and come straight to me.’

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ Lavinia replied, frowning.

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘And then?’ Lavinia asked, eyes shining with hope.

  ‘And men?’ Vitellius held her hand to his mouth and kissed the soft skin. ‘Then we can cause something of a scandal by getting married.’

  ‘Married . . .’ Lavinia whispered. She flung her arms round his neck and pulled him to her as tightly as possible. ‘I love you! I love you so much I’d do anything for you. Anything!’

  ‘Easy, I can hardly breathe!’ Vitellius chuckled. ‘All I ask of you is this small favour, and that you will consent to be my wife as soon as we can make it possible.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Lavinia planted a kiss on his cheek and quickly pulled away. ‘Now I must go.’ She picked up the dagger.

  ‘Here, wrap it in this.’ Vitellius reached over the side of his bed and flicked his neckerchief over to her. ‘Best that you keep it with you, well-hidden, until the banquet. It’s the kind of thing some people might kill for.’

  ‘It will be safe with me. I promise.’

  ‘I know it will, my sweet. Now you must go.’

  After Lavinia had left the tent, Vitellius stretched out on the bed with a smug expression of satisfaction. It had not been so very difficult to arrange after all. When the slave girl was presented to the Emperor at the banquet, the expressions on the faces of Vespasian and his wife would be priceless.

  It was a shame that Lavinia could not be allowed to live. She was a most accomplished lover and showed a sophistication in the more esoteric arts of love well beyond her teenage years. She might have looked good on his arm back in Rome, a trophy to dangle in front of his peers, and a tool for buying favours. But in using her to get the dagger into the banqueting hall, Vitellius realised she would know enough to place him in danger. If his plan succeeded, she would realise at once that she had been used. As yet, he still did not know the identity of the assassin Caratacus had found for the job – thanks to that fool Nisus. Caratacus might yet get a message through to him, but if he did not, Vitellius could only hope that the killer would make himself known so that he could be given the dagger. Failing that, the knife would have to be presented as a gift after all. But one thing was certain, assassination or no assassination, Lavinia could not be permitted to know what she knew and live to tell the tale.

  She must die as soon as she had served his purpose. He would be sorry to lose her but, Vitellius comforted himself, there would be other women.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  _______________

  The assembly ground was growing quiet now that the tail end of the procession had marched out of the camp and down the track towards Camulodunum. Distant cheering and the sound of trumpets still carried across the endless ridges of section tents. Flower petals and trampled garlands lay strewn across the hard-packed turf, and lifted in flurries as the wind gusted through the camp. Above, scattered grey clouds scudded across the sky and threatened rain.

  A number of people were still milling around the assembly ground in small groups, Romans and townspeople alike. The latter had come to witness the start of the celebrations as Claudius formally saluted the achievement of his legions while they marched past, cohort after cohort, equipment and uniforms bright and clean after many hours of bullshine. Now the legions had been dismissed. The Emperor and the standards were marching in procession through the rough streets of Camulodunum, under the protection of the Praetorian Guard units. As their new masters passed by, the Britons lining the route watched with the sullen resentment of a conquered people.

  Cato approached the assembly ground along the via Praetoria, having left his armour and weapons in his tent. Shortly before the Sixth Century had formed up for the parade he had received a message from Lavinia. She had asked him to meet her outside the headquarters tents after the procession had moved on into the town. The message had been short and terse, with no indication of what she wanted to say to him, no
r any personal endearment.

  He entered the assembly ground and made his way towards headquarters looking for her. He spotted her quickly, sitting alone on one of the wooden benches that had been erected on the turf bank raised between the tent and the assembly ground. She was not looking out for him, but seemed to be examining something cradled on her lap in the folds of her tunic. As Cato approached her from the side he saw the glint of red and gold before she was aware of him, and quickly bundled the object away in a scarlet neckerchief.

  ‘Cato! There you are!’ She spoke with a nervous edge to her voice. ‘Come and sit down beside me.’

  He slowly sat down, keeping a distance between them. She made no attempt to close the gap as she would have done at once not so very long ago. She remained silent for a moment, unwilling to meet his gaze. Eventually Cato could take it no more.

  ‘Well, what did you want to say to me?’

  Lavinia looked at him with a kindly expression that was perilously close to pity. ‘I don’t know quite how to say what I’m about to say, so please don’t interrupt.’

  Cato nodded, and swallowed nervously.

  ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about us the last few days, about how far apart our worlds are. You’re a soldier, and a good one according to my mistress. I’m just a house slave. Neither of us have particularly good prospects, and that means we’ 11 never be able to spend much time together . . . You can see what I’m saying?’

  ‘Oh yes! I’m dumped. Pretty way of putting it but the punchline’s the same.’

  ‘Cato! Don’t take it like that.’

  ‘How should I take it? Rationally? Put all my feelings aside and see how reasonable you’re being?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Lavinia replied gently. ‘It’s better than getting worked up like this.’

  ‘You think this is worked up?’ Cato replied, face drained of blood as love, bitterness and rage surged through his heart. ‘I might have guessed this is how it would end. I was warned about you. I should have listened, but you just used me.’

  ‘I used you? I don’t recall any complaints about the way I was treating you that night in Rutupiae. I fancied you, Cato. That’s all. Everything else is just what you’ve read into the situation. Now we’ve both had our fun it’s time to move on.’

  ‘That’s all? Are you quite certain? I mean, there’s nothing else I should be told?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Lavinia looked at him warily.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ Cato responded coldly. ‘I just thought you might mention something about the new man in your life.’

  ‘New man?’

  ‘Sorry, I should have said the renewal of a relationship with the man in your life.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Really? I’d have thought your little sessions with Tribune Vitellius would have been more memorable than that. I’m sure he’d be most hurt to think that he could slip your mind so easily.’ Cato clenched his fist, and to avoid the impulse to hit Lavinia he tucked it into his tunic, found Nisus’ bandage and wound his hand tightly into its folds. He drew it out and stared at it dully. Lavinia glanced down nervously at the bandage, and recoiled slightly, shifting her position on the bench so that she created more space between them.

  ‘Very well, Cato. Since you insist on being hurt I’ll tell you everything.’

  ‘That would be a nice change.’

  She ignored his sarcasm and met his look of burning hatred with a cold expression. ‘I knew Vitellius before I knew you. I wouldn’t say we were lovers. I had feelings for him but I doubt he returned them, at first. But in time his love grew, and then that idiot Plinius discovered us and wrecked everything. Then I met you.’

  ‘And thought, here’s someone I can use.’

  ‘Think what you like, Cato,’ said Lavinia, and shrugged. ‘At the time, whatever security I had in the world had been shattered. I was afraid and alone, and I just wanted some kind of support. When I saw that you had taken to me, I jumped at you.’

  ‘If you want to be strictly accurate, the preposition isn’t necessary.’

  Lavinia glared at him, and shook her head slowly. ‘That’s so typical of you. Always the smart-arse comment. And you really think that’s endearing?’

  ‘Not supposed to be. Not now.’

  ‘Not ever. I can’t tell you how sickening I’ve found it playing the naive young illiterate slave girl.’

  ‘I wondered where the sudden expansion in word power had come from. It must have rubbed off from the tribune.’

  ‘Cato! Will you stop being so horrible!’

  They glared at each other for a moment, before Cato’s gaze wavered and he looked down at the bandage he had been winding round his arm. He froze as he stared at it.

  ‘I did like you,’ Lavinia continued as gently as she could. ‘I really did, in a way, but the feelings I had for Vitellius were much deeper, and when he . . . Cato?’

  Cato was frantically shuffling the bandage round his arm and was not listening.

  ‘Cato? What’s the matter?’

  ‘B . . . e . . . l . . .’ he read out quietly as the marks on the bandage began to align. ‘. . . l . . . o . . . n . . . i . . . u . . . s. Bellonius.’

  Bellonius. Cato frowned at the name before he recalled three tribal representatives who had been formally presented to Claudius at the start of the morning’s ceremony. He jumped up, looking around, and hurried over to the footrail that ran along the line of benches. Lavinia watched him in amazement. Quickly unwinding the bandage from his hand, Cato began to wrap it carefully round the rail, adjusting the alignment as he went along, working his way back from the end of the message.

  ‘Cato! What are you doing?’

  ‘Saving the Emperor’s life!’ he replied excitedly as he continued towards the end of the bandage, reading as he went along. ‘Here, give me a hand!’

  Lavinia watched Cato with a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. Then, with a shake of her head, she crouched by the footrail and carefully rolled the rest of the bandage round the pole. Squatting down, Lavinia slowly read through the message, making careful adjustments to the bandage to align the words more precisely. She frowned as she tried to understand what had so excited Cato. As she glanced over the opening section, her eyes froze on a Roman name.

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Lavinia replied, unable to conceal a tremor in her voice.

  Cato pushed her back and leaned over the rail. Behind him Lavinia bent down. Before he found the phrase that had so alarmed her, he sensed a sudden motion and looked up – just in time to see Lavinia swing her arm in towards the side of his head. In her hand was a large round rock.

  There was no time to duck, or raise an arm. The stone crashed against the side of his skull, the world exploded into a brilliant white before turning into the pitch black of unconsciousness.

  ‘Come on, lad!’

  Cato was dimly aware that someone was shaking him, very roughly. The darkness was slowly thinning into a milky blur, and his head felt thick, like a lump of wood. Slowly his reason returned to him. He groaned.

  ‘That’s it! Wake up, Cato!’

  His eyes flickered open, took a moment to focus, and he saw the familiar coarse features of Centurion Macro looming over him. Macro gripped him under the arms and raised him into a sitting position.

  ‘Ouch!’ Cato raised a hand to the side of his head, and winced as his fingers touched a bump the size of a small egg.

  ‘What the hell happened to you?’

  ‘Not sure,’ Cato mumbled, still muzzy-headed. Then the jumble of events resolved themselves very quickly. ‘Lavinia! She’s got the bandage!’

  ‘Bandage? What are you on about?’

  ‘That bandage I found on Nisus. She’s taken it!’

  ‘She hit you because she wanted a bandage?’ Macro looked at his optio with a concerned expression. ‘Must have been a harder blow to the head tha
n I thought. Come on, lad, it’s off to the hospital with you.’

  ‘No!’ Cato tried to rise to his feet but became dizzy and had to slump back to the ground. ‘There’s a message on the bandage. It’s a scytale.’

  ‘A sky what?’

  ‘Scytale, sir. A Greed encryption system. You twist a roll of linen along a length of wood and write your message on it. Once it’s unwound the marks look meaningless.’

  ‘I see,’ Macro nodded. ‘Typical bloody Greeks. Too clever by half. So what was in this message of yours?’

  ‘Details about a plot to kill the Emperor.’

  ‘I see, and Lavinia knocked you out to steal this bandage of yours?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘How inconvenient.’

  Cato rounded on his centurion. ‘Sir! I swear to you, by all that I am and all that I believe in, there was a message on the bandage. It must have come from Caratacus. It said the Emperor would be killed by Bellonius during the victory celebrations, and that someone would have to get a knife to him after he’d been searched by Claudius’ bodyguard.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Whoever the message was sent to.’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘I didn’t read it all the way through,’ Cato said desperately. ‘Lavinia didn’t give me a chance.’

  Macro frowned at him, as if trying to work out if this was some kind of elaborate practical joke.

  ‘I beg you to believe me, sir. It’s true. Have I ever lied to you? Have I, sir?’

  ‘Well, yes, you have. That business about being able to swim.’

  ‘Sir, that was different!’

  ‘Look here, Cato,’ Macro relented, ‘I’ll believe you. I’ll accept that what you are saying is true. But if it turns out that it’s not, then I’ll break every bone in your body, understand?’

  Cato nodded.

  ‘Fair enough. Now then, where’s this girl of yours likely to go if she’s got that bandage?’

  ‘To Vitellius. It has to be him. He has to be the one that’s plotting with the Britons.’

  ‘Up to the same old tricks again,’ sighed Macro. ‘That fellow could really use a sword between the shoulder blades on a dark night. We’d better see if we can find Lavinia. Let’s go.’