The Eagles Prophecy c-6

by Simon Scarrow

  No one moved. No one replied. For a moment all was still, until Minucius stood up.

  'It was me, sir. Just saying what all the lads here are thinking. The pirates have given us a good kicking, and the word's out that we were betrayed.'

  'Betrayed?' Vitellius raised an eyebrow. If the men were looking for a traitor he might turn this to his advantage.

  'Someone sold us out, sir. Told 'em where to find us.'

  There was a low chorus of angry grumbling and Minucius was emboldened as he continued, 'We should find the bastard. Make him pay for it, nice and slow, like.'

  The officers nodded and a few offered chilling suggestions for the fate of the traitor once he was discovered. Vitellius moved closer to the fire so that all could clearly see him by its glow. He raised his hands to quieten them down.

  'All right! You have my word. When we find the man, he's yours to deal with as you wish, on one condition.'

  Most of the officers looked at him suspiciously; then Minucius cleared his throat. 'What's that then, sir?'

  'You give me your word that his death will be as painful as possible.'

  The officers laughed with relief, and Minucius nodded solemnly as the noise died away. Then there was an awkward silence as they waited for Vitellius to continue addressing them.

  Macro coughed. 'So what happens now, sir?'

  'We carry on with the plan,' Vitellius replied firmly. 'We still have enough ships to take on the pirates.'

  'No, sir.' Heads turned towards a trierarch at the rear of the tent. Albinus stood up so that he could be clearly seen and heard. 'We need more ships. More biremes.'

  'And why's that?' Vitellius replied coolly. 'From what I saw today those ships are worse than useless.'

  Albinus shook his head. 'That's not fair, sir. The men on those ships fought the best battle they could today. It's not their fault their ships were no match for the pirates. If we hadn't changed course and gone to help them, I doubt whether any of the biremes would have survived.'

  Cato took a sharp intake of breath and looked round at the other officers. Albinus' criticism of his commander could scarcely have been more open, and the centurions and trierarchs looked to Vitellius to see how he would respond.

  For a moment he just glared at Albinus, then finally he nodded slowly and replied, 'Your point is well made, but quite academic, as things stand, Albinus. I still wish to know why we need more biremes. Our main force, the triremes, are more or less intact. Once we throw them in against the pirates it'll all be over quickly enough.'

  'Yes, sir. Provided the pirates are prepared to sit there and wait for the triremes to come for them…'

  'So?' The impatience in the prefect's voice was apparent to all. 'What are you saying?'

  'You've served in the legions, sir.'

  'What of it?'

  'Then you know the tactics well enough. The lighter forces are there to find and pin the enemy down so the main strength can close in and destroy them. At least that's how it works at sea. I assume you do the same thing in the army.'

  'Of course we bloody do!' Macro snapped. 'We're not bloody fools, you know. At least the lads in the legion can build a proper fucking camp!' Macro waved an arm towards the dark outline of the rampart stretching round them.'Not this bloody shambles-'

  'Thank you, Centurion,' Vitellius cut in.'That's enough.'

  Macro's mouth was still open, ready to deliver the rest of his diatribe, but he clamped it shut and nodded.

  'Very well, then,' Vitellius continued. 'So we need biremes.'

  'No, sir. We need more biremes. We need to match their numbers, at least. I counted a dozen of the bastards, and all of them were well-handled. They've got good crews, and good trierarchs to command them. Frankly, they're better than us, sir. That's why we need more ships. We need some kind of advantage if we're going to stand a chance against them the next time it comes to a fight,' Albinus concluded firmly.

  'Well, there aren't any more biremes,' Vitellius snapped.'I can't just magic them out of thin air, can I?'

  'There's the six you left at Ravenna,' Albinus said flatly.

  Cato stood up, cleared his throat and added, 'There's another thousand marines we could use as well, sir.'

  'No!' Vitellius slapped his hand against his thigh. 'I will not leave Ravenna defenceless. Rome would have my head if anything happened.'

  'Rome may well do that already, sir,' Cato spoke quietly, 'once they get word of what happened today. If we're to continue operations against the pirates, we'll need every ship, every man we can draw on.'

  Vitellius stepped towards him. 'And if they do attack Ravenna?'

  'We have our orders, sir.' Cato laid heavy stress on the first word. 'The operation must take priority.'

  'And Ravenna?' The prefect responded quietly.

  'Ravenna will have to take its chances, sir.'

  'I see. Is that your advice? Willing to put that down in writing?'

  Cato clenched his teeth to prevent himself letting slip any acid words of contempt for his superior. Then he swallowed and replied, 'That's my advice, sir. Given our orders. But the decision is yours. Goes with the rank.'

  'I see.' Vitellius dropped his gaze and stood silently in thought. The other officers were also silent, as they waited for his decision.

  The prefect knew he was in a wretched position. He had lost a quarter of his force, as well as a good quantity of his equipment. What had begun as an overwhelming demonstration of force directed at crushing the growing pirate threat, had turned into a near disaster that threatened to destabilise the entire region. If he called off the operation then it would be seen as an unambiguous defeat, and the Emperor was not renowned for his toleration of defeated commanders. Vitellius feared that his career, maybe even his life, was in danger. He frowned. His career was all that gave meaning to his life. Without the promise of power and wealth he might as well be dead. So there was no possibility of calling off the operation. That much was certain. The campaign must continue.

  The question was, did he have enough men and material to ensure success? He had been defeated, but if the pirates were found and destroyed, and the scrolls recovered, then the initial setback could be quietly glossed over. Indeed, if Vitellius could pin the blame for the defeat on some traitor then he might escape censure for the defeat altogether. As long as he was ultimately victorious. But did he have the forces to do it? He was not sure. Certainly Albinus did not think so, and the expressions on the faces of the other trierarchs as they had listened to their comrade indicated that they too felt that more biremes were required. They must know their business, Vitellius reflected. With the remainder of the fleet and the marines he had left in Ravenna he would just about replace the men and ships lost earlier that day. But that would leave the port and the naval base virtually defenceless. He would have to ensure that the pirates were put under enough pressure that they would not be able to mount a raid on Ravenna. If the unthinkable happened and they did slip through and sack the port, then Emperor Claudius would show him no mercy.

  Then he recalled what Cato had said, the firm reminder that maybe there were even greater issues at stake: the scrolls that Narcissus had ordered them to retrieve, at any cost.

  At any cost…

  Damn the man for not putting those orders in writing. Then at least Vitellius could have claimed that the terrible risks he ran in deploying all his men and ships against the pirates were risks demanded by the terms of his orders. But Narcissus had been too clever for that, as usual. There would be no evidence to lay against him should Vitellius try to bring such a charge. Just as there would be no acceptable excuse for failing to recover the scrolls.

  As he thought through his options one clear course of action emerged as the most effective strategy for the prefect to pursue, and he fixed on it with a growing sense of despair, reluctant to make the final commitment by giving the necessary orders. He looked up at his officers and his heart sank as he saw them watching him, waiting for him to speak, to set
out his plan of action. Once he began there must be no turning back. He cleared his throat, and the officers stared at him intently.

  'We must carry on with the operation. If we fail to take the fight to the pirates now, then who knows how powerful they may become. They could strangle our trade, if they wished. We cannot afford to let that happen, gentlemen. I accept Trierarch Albinus' argument that we need to have sufficient force to face the enemy on acceptable terms. To this end I will send an officer back to Ravenna to bring up our reserve forces and equipment…'

  He glanced round, and his eyes fell on Cato, warming his thin frame close by the fire. It might be wise to keep that one as distanced from the real project of this operation as possible, the prefect considered. Vitellius needed to claim all the credit available for retrieving the scrolls. Besides, there might be other opportunities to exploit in this situation, and he didn't want another agent of Narcissus looking over his shoulder. There was Centurion Macro as well, of course, but Vitellius did not consider the older officer as much of a threat. Macro was too guileless for his own good. It might be as well to keep the two separated. Cato would be the one to return to Ravenna, then.

  'Centurion Cato!'

  Cato stiffened his back. 'Yes, sir.'

  'At first light, you and Albinus will take the Spartan back to Ravenna. Her complement of marines will remain here to give you more space on board for the return trip. You'll bring back the rest of the fleet, with the marines and replacement supplies. I'll have my clerk draft your authority to act in my name.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Gentlemen! That is all. Centurion Macro is taking the first watch. The rest of you can turn in until your watch is called. Dismissed!'

  As the officers rose stiffly around the fire and trudged off towards the campfires of their units, Cato remained behind. He nodded towards Macro and the latter reluctantly joined his friend as they approached the prefect.

  'What do you want?' Vitellius snapped. 'Make it quick. I'm tired.'

  Macro nodded. 'I expect every man in the fleet is tired, sir.'

  Vitellius ignored him, focusing on Cato alone. 'What do you want?'

  'Why are you sending me back for reinforcements? Surely I'd be more use to you here, sir? Given our orders from Narcissus.'

  'I have to write a dispatch to the Imperial Secretary,' Vitellius explained flatly. 'I have to report on what's happened. Narcissus will want to know the situation. I need you to make sure it reaches Ravenna and gets sent on to Rome.'

  'Why me?'

  'You I can trust. Those others,' Vitellius gestured towards the officers dispersing into the night, 'might not be so loyal to the Emperor. I have to be sure that the message gets through to Narcissus. That's why it has to be you. As for Macro here, well, I need all my best officers ready for anything that bastard Telemachus decides to throw at us.'

  Cato stared at the prefect with cold, bitter eyes. Then he saluted.

  'May I go now, sir?'

  'Of course,' Vitellius did not return the salute, but nodded in the direction of the tent lines of Cato's century.'You're not needed at the moment. Get some sleep. I'll have the report ready for you before first light, when the Spartan sets sail.' He turned to Macro. 'You'd better join your men on watch.'

  As the two centurions picked their way through the camp, Cato glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot.

  'While I'm gone, watch yourself.'

  Macro frowned. 'What do you mean?'

  'I'm not sure. I don't trust him.'

  'What's new? No man in his right mind would trust that bastard. What do you think he's up to?'

  Cato shook his head. 'I don't know. He's splitting us up, for some reason. All we can be sure of is it's nothing to do with getting this message through. So just watch yourself, you hear?'

  Macro nodded. 'You sound just like my mother!'

  Cato glanced at him.'While I'm in Ravenna, want me to look in on your mother for you?'

  As soon as he had said it Cato wished he had kept his foolish mouth shut. Memories of his calamitous encounter at the Dancing Dolphin flooded back.

  'No. Leave it,' Macro said quietly. 'Don't mention her again.'

  They walked in silence for a moment, then Cato changed the subject.'We'd better find this traitor soon. Before he gets another chance to sell us out.'

  Macro nodded. 'But he could be anyone.'

  'He could be,' Cato agreed.'But then again, he'd have to have some way of getting in touch with the pirates. That narrows things down.'

  Macro smiled. He could almost hear Cato thinking. 'Anyone in mind?'

  'I'm not sure. Not yet. But I have an idea where to start looking.'

  06 The Eagles Prophecy

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  'Your orders.' Prefect Vitellius held out a sealed parchment to Cato as they stood on the shore. A boat was waiting to take Cato out to the Spartan, lying at anchor a short distance out to sea. The trireme was barely more than an outline as the first light of the new day filtered over the mountain peaks. 'I've empowered you to act in my name when you get to Ravenna. Don't hesitate to take what we need. If any of the locals try to hinder you, you must act ruthlessly. Extreme circumstances call for extreme actions, understand?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Good.' Vitellius lowered his voice as he held out a small sealed package to Cato. 'This is the report. Make sure it's sent on to Rome as soon as you land.'

  Cato took the package and tucked it into his haversack.

  'Right, then. That's all, I think.' Vitellius nodded to himself. 'I'll see you in a few days, with the reinforcements. You're to rejoin us at the earliest possible opportunity. I'll hold you accountable for any unwarranted delay.'

  Cato returned his look with cold disdain. 'I understand, sir.'

  'Just as long as you do, Centurion. It would be a shame to have to end our long-standing antipathy. But I'm sure I'd find fresh enemies before long.'

  A thin smile flickered across Cato's lips. 'I don't doubt it, sir.'

  Vitellius stared at him for a moment and then turned away and strode off. Macro approached Cato as soon as the prefect had disappeared amongst the tents. He extended his hand and the two officers clasped each other on the forearm.

  'Safe journey,' Macro grinned. 'With our recent experiences of life at sea, you'll need all the luck you can get.'

  'Don't I know it.' Cato smiled back. 'Macro, if we ever live through this mess you have my permission to kick my lights out if I ever so much as look at a ship with a fond expression.'

  'You can count on it.'

  Cato smiled. In a world determined by the whim of the fates it was reassuring to know that he could rely on Macro's steadiness. Cato patted his friend on the shoulder and turned towards the waiting boat. He clambered over the transom and the sailors ran the boat out into the gentle surf that rolled and hissed up the shingle. Once through the surf they climbed aboard, took up their oars and rowed Cato out towards the looming hulk of the Spartan. Cato turned his head back for one last glimpse of his friend and saw Macro lift his hand, and turn away, marching back amongst the tents crowded between the beach and the dark line of the rampart.

  As the sun rose over the mountains the trireme cleared the bay and set her elegant bows into the open waters beyond. The sky was overcast and the sea was a steely grey with a heavy swell. A stiff breeze was blowing off the coast and the crew had sheeted the mainsail in tightly at an angle across the deck to make the most of the favourable wind. As he stood on the aft deck Cato noted that there was a tenseness amongst the sailors, and they gazed round at the horizon as if expecting a host of pirate ships to come tearing down on them the moment they ventured beyond the safety of the rest of the Roman fleet and clawed their way out to sea. He turned and paced slowly over to Albinus. The trierarch looked as anxious as his men and Cato tried to affect the same fearless calm he had seen so often in Macro.

  'Reckon they're still out there?'

  Albinus nodded. 'Bound to be. They'l
l have left a few at sea to keep an eye on us.'

  'Any danger?'

  Albinus looked at him. 'At sea, there's always a danger. From them, from the Gods and from the elements.'

  Cato smiled faintly. 'I meant the enemy.'

  'I know you did. But with this heavy sea we should make better going of it than they will.' Albinus glanced up at the grey clouds overhead. 'I'd be more concerned about the weather. Looks like we're in for a bit of a blow.'

  'Bit of a blow?' Cato raised an eyebrow. 'Sounds like some kind of nautical euphemism, if ever I heard one.'

  It was Albinus' turn to smile.'All right, then. We're in for a storm. High winds, heavy seas. Bloody horrible all round.'

  'I think I preferred "bit of a blow" after all.' Cato glanced over his shoulder at the coastline of Illyricum, and saw that the entrance to the bay had already disappeared over the horizon and only the serrated line of mountains was still in sight.

  'Sail ho!'

  All across the deck, heads tilted up to the masthead, noted the direction of the lookout's arm and then turned towards the direction he indicated.

  'Two… no, three sails.'

  Albinus cupped his hands and shouted up, 'What's their heading?'

  After a short pause the lookout made his reply, with a weary fatalism that was evident to all on deck. 'Closing to intercept us, sir! I can make 'em out more clearly now. It's them pirates again.'

  'Very well. Call down the moment they make any course changes!'

  Trierarch Albinus dropped his hands to his side, and clenched them tightly before he thrust them behind his back where they would not betray his state of mind to anyone but Cato and the steersman.

  'Three of them,' Cato mused. 'Enough to take us on?'

  'More than enough, if they're handled well. They've got the wind gauge, and they'll try and close in on us at an angle.'

  'Can't we outrun them?'

  Albinus pursed his lips as he calculated the relative speeds of his ship and those of the pirates. 'Not unless the weather worsens. Otherwise they'll catch us before noon. They've the edge in terms of speed and numbers. But they'll have to board us. It's too dangerous to try and ram anyone in these conditions. Besides, the Spartan's a tough ship. She's got firm sides; made from well-seasoned wood.' The trierarch nodded to himself with pride. 'They'll not hole us.'