When the Eagle hunts c-3

by Simon Scarrow

  'Which makes us quite safe, since my dear kinsman another cousin incidentally – would never think of this place.

  I doubt he's ever even ventured into the alleys behind the quay. We'll be all right.' '

  'If he does find us,' Nessa's eyes widened, 'he'll go mental! You remember what he did to that Atrebate lad who tried to chat us up. I thought Prasutagus was going to kill him!'

  'Probably would have if I hadn't hauled him off.'

  Cato shifted nervously. 'Big lad, this kinsman of yours?'

  'Huge!' Nessa laughed. 'Sa! Huge is the word all right.'

  'With a brain in inverse proportion to his physique,'

  Boudica added. 'So don't even think of trying to reason with him if he comes in here. Just run.'

  'I see.'

  Macro returned from the bar, arms raised to keep cups and jug above the throng. He set them down on the rough surface of the bench and politely filled each of the pottery mugs to the brim with red wine.

  'Wine!' Boudica exclaimed. 'You do know how to spoil a lady, Centurion.'

  'Beer's off,' explained Macro. 'This is all they have left, and it's not cheap either. So drink up and enjoy.'

  'While we can, sir.'

  'Eh? What's the matter, lad?'

  'These ladies are only here because they slipped away from a rather large male relative who is probably looking for them right now, and not in the best of moods.'

  'Not surprising on a night like this.' Macro shrugged.

  'Still, we're well out of it now. We've got a fire, drink and good company. What more could you ask for?'

  'A seat nearer the fire,' replied Boudica.

  'Now then, let's have a toast.' The Centurion raised his mug. 'To us!' Macro raised his mug to his lips and downed the wine in one go then slammed the mug back down.

  'Ahhhh! That hit the spot! Who's for more?'

  'Just a moment.' Boudica followed his lead and drained her cup.

  Cato knew his limitations with respect to wine, and shook his head.

  'Suit yourself, lad, but wine's as good as a knock an head for helping you forget your troubles.'

  'If you say so, sir.'

  'I do say so. Particularly if you have some bad news lo.i break.' Macro looked across the table at Boudica.

  'What news?' she asked sharply.: 'The legion's being sent south.'

  'When?'

  'Three days' time.'

  'First I've heard of it,' said Cato. 'What's up?'

  'I'd guess thee general wants to use the Second Legion to cut Caratacus offfrom any escape route south of the Tamesis.

  The other three legions can clear up on the north side of the river.'

  'The Tamesis?' Boudica frowned. 'That's a long way off. When is your legion coming back here?'

  Macro was about to give some glib and reassuring answer when he saw the pained expression on Boudica's face. He realised that honesty was the fight course of action in this situation. Far better for Boudica to know the truth now than for her to resent him later.

  'I don't know. Maybe a few more campaign seasons, maybe never. All depends on how long Caratacus continues to fight on. If we can crush him quickly then the province can be settled straightaway. As it is, the wily bastard keeps raiding through our supply lines, andall the while he's trying to negotiate with other tribes to get them to join him in resisting us.'

  'You can hardly blame the man for fighting well.'

  'I can blame him for it if it keeps us apart.' Macro reached for her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. 'So let's just hope he's bright enough to realise he can never win.

  Then, once the province is settled, I'll get some leave and come and find you.'

  'You expect the province to be settled that quickly?'

  Boudica flared up. 'Lud! When will you Romans learn?

  Caratacus leads only those tribes under the sway of the Catuvellauni. There are many other tribes, mostly too proud to let themselves be led into battle by another chief, and certainly too proud to meekly submit to Roman rule. Take our own tribe.' Bbudica gestured to herself and Nessa.

  'The Iceni. I know of no warrior who would dream "of becoming a subject of your Emperor Claudius. Sure you've tried to woo our chiefs with promises of alliance and a share in the spoils of those tribes Rome defeats on the battlefield. But I warn you, the moment you try and become our master, Rome will pay a high price in the blood of its legions…'

  Her voice had become quite shrill, and for a moment her eyes blazed defiantly across the table. Drinkers at neighbour ing benches had turned to look, artd conversation was briefly stilled. Then heads turned back and the,ўolume Slowly rose again. Boudica poured herself another mug of wine and drained it before continuing, more quietly. 'That's true of most of the other tribes as well. Believe me.'

  Macro stared at her and nodded slowly as he took her hand again and held it gently in his own. 'I'm sorry. I meant no slight on your people. Honestly. I'm not very good with words.'

  Boudica's lips lifted in a smile. 'Never mind, you make up for it in other ways.'

  Macro glanced round at Cato. 'Do you think you could take this lass over to the bar for a while.'? My lady and I need to talk.'

  'Yes, sir.' Cato, sensitive to the needs of the situation, quickly rose from the bench and held his ann out to Nessa.

  The young woman looked to her cousin and was given a faint nod.

  'All right then.' Nessa grinned. 'You be careful, Boudica, you know what these soldiers are like.'

  'Sat. I can look after myself!'

  Cato did not doubt it. He had come to know Boudica quite well over the winter months and his sympathies were with his centurion. He led Nessa through the crowd of drinkers to the counter. The barman, an old Gaul judging by his accent, had eschewed the Roman fashions of the continent and wore a heavily patterned tunic, upon the shoulders of which rested his pigtails. He was rinsing mugs in a tub of dirty water and looked up when Cato rapped the counter with a coin. Wiping his hands On his apron, he shuffled over and raised his eyebrows.

  'Two mugs of heated wine,' ordered Cato, before he considered Nessa. 'That do?'

  She nodded, and the barman picked up two mugs, and made for a battered bronze cauldron resting on a blackened grate over faintly glowing embers. Steam curled up from inside and, even where he stood, Cato could smell the scent of spices above the beer and the underlying sour smells of humanity. Cato, tall and thin, looked down on his Iceni companion as she eagerly watched the Gaul dip a ladle into the cauldron to stir the mixture. Cato frowned. He knew he should make some attempt at small talk, but he had never been good at it, always fearing that whatever he said sounded either insincere or merely stupid. Besides, his heart was not in it. Not that Nessa was unattractive in looks – her personality he could only guess at – it was just that he still grieved for Lavinia.

  The passion he had felt for Lavinia ran through his veins like fire, even after she had betrayed him and run to the bed of that bastard Vitellius. Before Cato could teach himself to despise her, Vitellius had drawn Lavinia into a plot to kill the Emperor and cold-bloodedly murdered her to cover his tracks. An image of the dark tresses of Lavinia's hair settling into the blood spreading from her cut throat filled Cato's mind and he felt sick. He longed for her more than ever.

  All his spare passion was devoted to cultivating a burning hatred for Tribune Vitellius so great that no revenge could be too terrible to contemplate. But Vitellius had returned to Rome with the Emperor, having emerged a hero from his botched assassination attempt. As soon as it was clear that the Emperor's bodyguards would save their master, Vitellius had fallen upon the assassin and killed him. Now the Emperor regarded the tribune as his saviour for whom no reward or honour could be sufficient expression of his gratitude. Staring into the middle distance, Cato's expression hardened into a thin-lipped bitterness that startled companion.

  'What on earth's the matter with you?'

  'Eh? Sorry. I was thinking.'

  'I don't think I want
to know.'

  'It was nothing to do with you.'

  'I should hope not. Look, here comes the wine.'

  The Gaul returned to the counter with two mugs, whose rich aroma excited even Cato's taste buds. Tim Gaul took the coin Cato handed him and turned back toward his rinsing tub, 'Hey!' Cato called out. 'What about my change?'

  'No change,' muttered the Gaul over his shoulder. 'That's" the price. Wine's in short supply, thanks to the storms.'

  'Even so…'

  'You don't like my prices? Then fuck off and find somewhere else to drink.'

  Cato felt the blood drain from his face and his fists clenched in anger. He opened his voice to shout, and only just managed to pull himself back from the brink of a terrible rage and a desire to tear the old man apart. With the return of self-control, he felt horrified at such a lapse in the rationality he prided himself in. He felt ashamed, and" glanced round to see if anyone had noticed how close he. had come to making a fool of himself. Only one man yam looking his way, a thickset Gaul leaning.on the far end of the counter. He was watching Cato closely and one hand had moved towards the handle of a dagger in a metalled scabbard hanging from his belt. Clearly the old Gaul's hired muscle. He met the optio's gaze and raised his hand to wag a finger at him, faintly smiling with contempt as he warned the young man to behave himself.

  'Cato, there's a space by the fire. Let's go.' Nessa gently pushed him away from the counter towards the brick hearth where fresh logs hissed and crackled. Cato resisted her touch for an instant but then yielded. They picked their way between the customers, taking care not to spill the heated wine, and sat down on two low stools alongside a handful of others who craved the fire's warmth.

  'What was all that about?' asked Nessa. 'You looked so scary back there at the counter.'

  'I did?' Cato shrugged, and then carefully sipped from his steaming mug.

  'You did. I thought you were going to go for him.'

  'I was.'

  'Why? Boudica told me you were the quiet type.'

  'I am.'

  'Then why?'

  'It's personal!' Cato replied sharply. Then quickly relented. 'Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that. I just don't want to talk about it.'

  'I see. Then let's talk about s6mething else.'

  'Like what?'

  'I don't know. You think of something. Do you good.'

  'All right then, that cousin of Boudica, Prasutagus, is he really as dangerous as he sounds?'

  'Worse. He's more than just a warrior.' Cato saw the frightened expression on her face. 'He has other powers.'

  'What kind ofpoers?' '

  'I-I can't say.'

  'Will you and Boudica be in any danger when he you again?'

  Nessa shook her head as she sipped from her mug spilt a few drops of wine down the front of her cloak they glistened with reflected firelight for a moment soaking in. 'Oh, he'll go bright red in the face and shout a bit, but that'll be all. Once Boudica makes eyes at he'll just roll over and wait for her to tickle his tummy.'

  'Fancies her then?'

  'You said it. Fancies her something rotten.' Nessa craned her neck to look across the room at her friend who was leaning over the table and cradling Macro's cheek in the palm of one hand. She turned back to Cato and whispered confidentially, as if Boudica might somehow hear her, 'Between us, I've heard that Prasutagus has quite fallen in love with her. He's going to escort us home to our village once spring comes. I shouldn't be surprised if he takes the opportunity to ask Boudica's father for permission to wed her.'

  'How does she feel about him?'

  'Oh, she'll accept, of course.'

  'Really? Why?'

  'It's not every day that a girl gets offered the hand of the next ruler of the Iceni.'

  Cato nodded slowly. Boudica would not be the first woman he had met who placed social advancement before emotional fulfilment. Cato decided he would not tell his centurion about this. If Boudiea was going to ditch Macro and marry someone else, then she could tell Macro herself.

  'A shame. She deserves better.'

  'Of course she does. That's why she's messing around with your cenm-ion. Might as well have as much fun as she can, while she can. I doubt Prasutagus will give her much of a free rein once they're married.'

  A sudden crash sounded from behind them. Cato and Nessa turned and saw that the door to the alehouse had been kicked open. Squeezing through it was one of the largest men Cato had ever seen. As the man straightened up, rather awkwardly, his head met the thatch. Swearing angrily in his native tongue, he ducked and moved forward to where he could stand erect and have a good look round at the customers. He was well over six feet tall, and broad to match.

  The bulging muscles under the hairy skin of his forearms made Cato gulp as with a sick sense of inevitability he guessed who the new arrival was.

  Chapter Three

  'Oh dear!' Nessa winced. 'Now we're for it.'

  As Prasutagus glared round at the drinkers, they fell silent, and tried not to meet his eyes while carefully keeping him in clear view. Cato looked beyond the Iceni giant. In the nook by the door, Boudica and Macro were out of the new arrival's line of sight, and Boudica quickly indicated to Macro that he should get under the bench. He shook his head. She jabbed her finger down insistently, but there was no swaying the centurion. He swung his leg over the bench, ready to confront the new arrival. Boudica quickly drained her mug and dived under the bench herself, pressing into the wall furthest from Prasutagus. In doing so she jolted the table and her mug tipped off the edge and shattered on the stone floor.

  Prasutagus whipped out a dagger from beneath his cloak and spun round, ready to pounce on any foe sneaking up behind him. He weighed up Macro's stocky physique as the centurion rose to his feet, and then the Iceni warrior roared with laughter.

  'What you laughing at?' Macro snarled.

  Nessa squeezed Cato's arm and gasped. 'Your friend's a fool!'

  'No' Cato whispered. 'It's your kinsman who's in danger.

  He's had a skinful and he's pissed Macro off. He'd better watch it.'

  Prasutagus patted the centurion heavily on the shoulder and said something conciliatory in his native tongue. The knife disappeared back into his cloak.

  'Hands off!' growled Macro. 'You may be a big bastard, but I've taken down harder men than you.'

  The warrior ignored him and turned towards the other customers, resuming his search for his wayward female relatives.

  Nessa had risen to her feet to better view the confrontation and was too slow ducking down out of sight again.

  'Ahhh!' roared the giant and he ploughed forward, roughly pushing aside anyone in his path. 'Nessa!'

  Before he could consider the wisdom of his action, Cato moved to place himself between them, hand raised to stop the approaching warrior.

  'Leave her alone!' His voice quavered as the stupidity of his action sank in.

  Prasutagus swatted him to oneside, grabbed Nessa by the shoulders and, true to her description if the man, began to bellow at her. Cato picked himself up from the floor and threw himself at the Briton. Prasutagus barely shifted. A moment later a heavy hand slapped the side of Cato's head and his world flashed white before he dropped like a stone, out cold.

  By the door, Macro roused himself. 'That was way out of order, sunshine!' He thrust his way through the crowd towards the fireplace. Behind him, Boudica struggled out from under the bench.

  'Macro! Stop! He'll kill you.'

  'Let the bastard try.'

  'Stop! I beg you!' She flew after him, making a grab for his shoulders.

  'Let go of me, woman!'

  'Macro, please!'

  Prasutagus became aware of the commotion behind him and paused in his rough handling of Nessa to spare a glance over his shoulder. At once', he thrust Nessa to one side and swivelled his great frame round, bellowing out a torrent of words in a mixture of relief and rage. Macro stopped a little short of the giant, looking around for anything he could use as
a weapon to even up the odds. He seized a crutch lying on the ground beside an unconscious tribesman and held it like a cross-staff. But before he could make a move on Prasutagus, a crashing blow to the back of his heaa laid him out – Boudica had felled him with a pottery jug. Stunned and dizzy, Macro struggled to.his hands and knees.

  'Stay down!' hissed Boudica. 'Stay down and keep quiet if you know what's good for you.'

  She advanced on her cousin, eyes blazing and mouth clenched in outrage. Prasutagus continued shouting and waving his great arms about. Boudica drew up in front of him and slapped him across the face, again and again, until his tongue stilled and his arms hung limp.

  'Na, Boudica!' he protested. "Na.t"

  She slapped him once more, and pointed a finger in his face, daring him to say another word. His eyes burned and he clenched his teeth, but he uttered not a sound. The other drinkers watched in fascinated silence for the next development in the confrontation between the hulking great warrior and the tall haughty woman who defied him so openly. At length Boudica lowered her finger. Prasutagus nodded, and spoke quietly to her, with the barest nod towards the doorway. Boudica called to Nessa and then led the way out into the street. Pausing a moment, Prasutagus glowered round at the customers, daring anyone to laugh at him. Then, kicking the prostrate optio to one side, he stormed out of the alehouse, hurrying after his charges before they could run off again.

  Every drinker in the establishment watched the open doorway for any sign of the warrior's return. As conversation quietly resumed, the old Gaul nodded to his hired muscle and the man wandered over to the door and closed it. Then he casually worked his way over to Macro.

  'You all right, mate?'

  'Been better.' Macro rubbed his head and winced. 'Shit!

  That hurts.'

  'Not surprised. That's quite a woman.'

  'Oh yes!'

  'Saved your bacon though. You and the lad there.'

  'Cato!' Macro hurried over to his optio, who was propped on an elbow and shaking his head. 'You still with us?'

  'I'm not sure, sir. Feels like a house fell on me.'

  'Not far off!' chuckled the hired muscle. 'That Prasul can get pretty heawy-handed.'