‘Ask him where his village is again. Tell him that if he does not give me the location we’ll take him with us to Bruccium and let Quertus continue the interrogation there.’
As he heard the translation Turrus flinched, as if he had been kicked, and Cato saw that he was genuinely terrified by the prospect of falling into the hands of Centurion Quertus. The Silurian clasped his hands together and shuffled slightly towards Cato and pleaded with him.
A cold look of satisfaction was on the decurion’s face as he conveyed the prisoner’s words. ‘He begs you to spare him. Don’t take him to Bruccium. Send him to Glevum instead. He’d rather be a slave than face Quertus. . Then there was some stuff about begging his gods to save him.’
Cato leaned forward and prodded the end of his crutch into the prisoner’s chest. ‘Then tell me where your village is! Tell me that and you have my word that you and your people will be spared. Slaves you will become, but you will escape sword and fire. Now tell me!’
Turrus made a keening noise in his throat and shook his head, torn between the dread of facing the enemy who haunted his darkest nightmares and the shame of betraying his tribe. He gritted his teeth and bowed his head as he shrank back into himself.
Trebellius clicked his tongue. ‘Want me to continue with the interrogation, sir? Another beating might break him, now that you’ve gone and put the frighteners on him.’
Cato thought a moment. Despite the man’s terror, he would not give up his family. There was a chance, however remote, that the Romans might be set upon before they reached Bruccium. No doubt he would cling to that hope. Until they reached the fort. Then there would be no escaping the choice Cato had forced upon him. The prefect shook his head.
‘No. Pick him up. Take him outside and tie him up securely for the night. Make sure he can’t do any harm to himself. You’d better tell the optio to have the men on watch check him from time to time. All right, we’re done here.’
Trebellius saluted and then hauled the prisoner up on to his feet. ‘Come on, my little beauty, it’s time for some shut-eye.’
The decurion bundled Turrus out of the mess room and shut the door behind him.
Cato nodded to Decimus squatting in a corner chewing on a strip of dried beef. ‘I want to speak to the optio in command of this outpost.’
Decimus struggled to his feet and limped out of the room. There was a brief silence before Macro gestured to the bowl of stew that had been prepared for Cato. ‘Do you mind?’
The stew had cooled and congealed into a glutinous mass, with a thin film of fat across the surface. Cato shook his head again. ‘Be my guest.’
As Macro tucked into his second helping his friend stroked his jaw and considered their situation.
‘The nearer we get to Bruccium, the stranger things seem to be. Even if half of what our friend Turrus said is true, then we’re really going to be out on a limb. Doesn’t it strike you as very convenient?’
Macro looked up, spoon dripping small brown clods as he held it in mid-air. ‘Convenient, how?’
‘We didn’t exactly win many friends in Rome before we left. Indeed, that’s why Narcissus was doing us a favour getting us posted to Britannia as soon as possible.’
‘And here we are, so what’s the problem?’
‘It’s just that “here” happens to be on the road to an isolated fort as far forward as it’s possible to be, surrounded by enemy warriors and commanded by a man who seems to be a bloodthirsty maniac. It feels to me like we’ve been set up for a fall, Macro.’
‘Set up by who?’
‘Who do you think? Pallas, it has to be.’ Cato recalled the oily Greek freedman who served as an imperial adviser. With the Emperor growing old and infirm, his servants were positioning themselves to take advantage of the situation when Claudius’s successor took the throne. Pallas had sided with the Emperor’s new wife, Agrippina, and her son Nero. The latter might already be Emperor but for Cato and Macro saving the life of Claudius in an attempt on his life. Cato sighed. ‘We put an end to Pallas’s plot against the Emperor and he wants his revenge, as well as to tidy up any loose ends.’
‘Shame that none of the mud stuck to him.’ Macro sniffed. ‘That sly Greek bastard got away with it.’
‘True, but we know what he did. As long as we’re alive then Pallas sees us as a potential threat. He can’t afford for us to reveal what we know, even though few people are going to believe us. What could be better for him than sending us into danger?’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something? I doubt the fort was even built when Narcissus sent us on our way. And your predecessor died shortly before that. There’s no way the news could have reached Rome before we set out.’
‘It doesn’t matter. The specifics are of little account. My guess is that after Pallas learned that we were bound for Britannia he sent a message to one of his agents here with orders to make sure we were put in harm’s way. My guess is that Pallas has a man inside the governor’s staff, if not the governor himself. They would see to it that we were sent somewhere there is a good chance we’ll be killed off. Bruccium fits the bill nicely and the death of the previous prefect meant there was no need to get him reassigned to a new posting. So far it’s worked out well for Pallas.’
‘If that’s what is going on,’ Macro said doubtfully. ‘But frankly, Cato, I think you’re jumping at shadows. Our being sent to Bruccium is just the luck of the draw.’
Cato looked at him. ‘You really think so? After all the scheming we’ve witnessed over the last few years? You know how things work inside the palace.’
They were interrupted by Decimus as he returned with the optio. They stepped into the mess room and the optio closed the door behind him before saluting his superiors. ‘Optio Manlius Acer, sir. You wanted to see me.’
Cato nodded. ‘At ease, Optio. Take a seat.’
The optio looked briefly surprised at the informality shown to him by someone as senior as a prefect and then sat on the bench opposite.
‘This is the last outpost before the fort at Bruccium, right? There’s nothing beyond here. Not even a signal post.’
The optio nodded.
‘The thing is, there’s been no report from Bruccium in over a month. Have you heard anything?’
‘Heard, no. But I saw a patrol towards the head of the valley ten days ago, sir. A squadron of Thracian cavalry. They looked on for a moment and then disappeared into the trees.’
‘But no message? No request for supplies?’
The optio shook his head.
‘Peculiar, don’t you think?’ Cato pressed him.
‘Peculiar doesn’t begin to describe it, sir. Before Quertus took command the prefect used to send two squadrons and two centuries of legionaries back to the depot to escort the supply convoy up to the fort every ten days, regular as anything. After the prefect died the routine continued for a while, then many days would go by between supply runs. Eventually the resupply requests and the escort stopped coming.’
Macro looked at the optio. ‘Why didn’t you send a patrol to investigate?’
‘Not my job, sir. My orders are to guard this side of the pass and report back to Glevum on any sightings of the enemy.’
‘That’s not really good enough, is it?’ Macro asked caustically. ‘You were pretty slow to come to our aid earlier today, and now this. I’m not impressed.’
Acer folded his hands together and rubbed a thumb across the knuckles of the other hand. ‘Sir, I’ve less than forty men here. We’re in the heart of enemy territory. If we take unnecessary risks then we die.’
‘That’s what you signed up for, Acer. What we all signed up for. That’s no excuse.’
The optio opened his mouth to protest but saw the cold glint in Macro’s eyes and looked down in shame instead. There was no profit in undermining the optio, Cato decided, and he returned to the subject at hand.
‘If there’s been no request for supplies then it means that Quertus and his men are living off the land.�
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‘Or they’ve been wiped out,’ Decimus suggested anxiously. ‘If there’s been no word from them, then what else could have happened?’
Macro corrected him. ‘The optio says he saw one of their patrols ten days ago.’
‘Quite,’ Cato agreed. ‘So we must assume the fort and its garrison are intact. We’ll know soon enough in any case. If we start out at first light we should reach the fort by dusk.’
‘You’re continuing, sir?’ asked Decimus.
‘Of course. I have orders to take command of the fort.’
‘But things ain’t right, sir. Not by a long way. It would be madness to continue. Not before you know what you’re leading us into.’
‘Nevertheless, we will continue to Bruccium.’
‘Not me, sir. I ain’t going another step. Come the morning, I’m heading back to Glevum, and then Londinium.’
Macro smiled. ‘All by yourself? On foot, with that gammy leg of yours? Sounds like more of a risk than continuing to Bruccium.’
‘I’ll take one of the mules.’
‘One of our mules? I don’t think so, Decimus.’
The veteran turned to Cato. ‘You can spare me one, sir.’
Cato shook his head. ‘We’ve got a prisoner to carry, as well as our baggage. But if it’ll help change your mind, I’ll give you a hundred denarii bonus if you stay with us until the autumn.’
Macro looked startled. ‘A hundred? Are you mad?’
Cato raised a hand to silence him, his attention fixed on Decimus. ‘If it’s as dangerous as you think, then I’ll need you at my side. And that hundred denarii should set you up nicely in Londinium when this is all over. What do you say?’
Decimus looked distraught, his fears warring with his greed. In the end he stared bitterly at Cato. ‘Seems I ain’t got any choice anyway. I can’t stay here. I can’t get back to Londinium. The only way is forward. All right, a hundred denarii it is. I accept.’
Cato smiled thinly. ‘Very big of you. Now, you’d better see to our bed rolls. Centurion Macro and I will be sleeping in here. Then get some rest. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.’
Decimus nodded unhappily and left the mess room. Once he had gone, Macro let out a sigh and muttered, ‘Glad to see that Decimus is willing to stand with us. . The hundred denarii helped, though.’
‘You know how it is. Money talks.’ Cato cocked an eyebrow. ‘Actually, it practically screams.’
Optio Acer looked up at him. ‘Perhaps your servant is right to be nervous, sir.’
‘How so?’
‘I don’t quite know how to put it, sir.’
‘Well, try putting it into words, man,’ Macro growled. ‘Before I lose my patience.’
The optio winced but then took a sharp breath and steeled himself to speak. ‘I don’t know what they’ve told you about what’s been going on at Bruccium, sir, but it’s never been quite right to my mind, since the fort was built. The last prefect was, well, a bit on the weak side. Left most of the running of the garrison to Quertus.’
‘How do you know this?’ asked Cato.
‘I heard it from the men passing through here on the way to the supply base. That, and more.’ The optio lowered his voice. ‘They said that Quertus rules the fort with a rod of iron and hands out the harshest punishments for the smallest of infractions. They said he had ordered one of the optios beaten to death for questioning his order not to take prisoners following a raid on a local village.’
Macro sucked in a breath. ‘Good discipline is one thing. But that’s going too far.’
Cato shot him a look. ‘You think? Carry on, Acer. What else have you heard?’
‘The prefect looked the other way for a while, but in the end he confronted Quertus. Told him that he had put in a request to have him transferred to another unit. That was shortly before the prefect’s accident.’
Macro narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you suggesting, Optio?’
Acer swallowed nervously. ‘I’m just telling you what I know, sir. You can draw your own conclusions.’ The optio stood up and faced Cato. ‘I’ve said enough, sir. I should see to the sentries. After the attack this afternoon, I’ve doubled the watches. I don’t want to be surprised again.’
‘Very good.’ Cato nodded. ‘You may go.’
Once he had left, Macro puffed out his cheeks. ‘Now they’re all at it. Quertus has got our own side spooked as much as the enemy. Perhaps you’re right. Maybe there’s more to this than I thought.’
‘We’ll know soon enough. We should reach Bruccium tomorrow.’ Cato stretched his back and yawned. ‘And then we’ll finally meet Centurion Quertus in the flesh.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘The top of the pass should be just ahead.’ Trebellius spoke quietly, as if fearful that they might be overheard. Around them the mist was thick enough to conceal the rocky slopes rising up on each side. The clatter of their hoofs on the loose shale seemed unnervingly loud as the riders slowly made their way up the rise. Cato’s replacement mount was a steady, mild-mannered beast by the name of Hannibal. Fortunately he did not take after his namesake and presented no trouble to his Roman rider. As near as Cato could estimate, it was mid-afternoon. A light drizzle filled the air and coated the cloaks of the riders in tiny beads of moisture. The prisoner had been tied over the back of a mule and his tattooed back glistened in the damp. The stillness and quiet of their surroundings made the men of the squadron nervous and they glanced warily from side to side as they walked their mounts up the track. Cato pulled his cloak more tightly about him and tried not to shiver.
‘And what is beyond the pass?’ he asked the decurion.
‘The track leads down into the valley, straight to the fort, about five miles from here. You can’t miss it.’
‘You’ve been there before then?’
‘Once, shortly after it was completed.’
‘What’s the layout?’
Trebellius paused a moment as he recalled the details. ‘It’s well-sited, above a small gorge with a swift current flowing through it. The cliff bends round the side and then there’s steep ground in front of the other two faces which have the usual ditch and rampart. It’s a pretty formidable position and you’d need an army and even a decent siege train to break into the place.’
‘Does it command a good view of the valley?’
The decurion nodded. ‘That too. Though in a mist like this that’s of little use, and mists are commonplace in these mountains.’ He shook his head. ‘Why the fuck anyone, even barbarians like the Silurians, would want to live here is beyond me.’ He turned to Cato. ‘Once we reach the top of the pass, I’ll be turning back to Glevum, sir.’
‘I know.’
There was a brief pause before Trebellius continued. ‘We’ve already escorted you further than my orders required, sir.’
‘I know. You don’t have to justify it to me, Decurion. We’ll be fine.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The decurion nudged his heels in and urged his mount forward to resume his position at the head of the small column.
They rode on in silence until Macro edged his horse alongside Cato and muttered, ‘I hope we will be fine. If laughing boy’s Silurian friends are still around I don’t give much for our chances when Trebellius and his lads about face.’
‘If the enemy are as scared of Quertus as our prisoner seems to be then I don’t think we’re going to be in any danger once we enter the valley. Not from the Silurians, at any rate.’
Macro flashed him a searching look. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You heard what Acer said about the previous prefect. Seems that I might have to be careful I don’t go the same way.’
Macro glanced round anxiously before he responded in an undertone, ‘You really think Quertus would do something like that? Bump off his commander in the middle of a campaign?’
‘Can you think of a better time to do it? With the enemy close at hand and casualties piling up, who is going to question one more death? As long as
a killer is careful not to be too obvious he could get away with murder. From the sound of things, Centurion Quertus is a man with a pretty ruthless streak, who doesn’t let anyone stand in his way.’
‘That may be true,’ Macro mused. ‘But still.’
‘But still, what?’ Cato said tersely. ‘We’ve known men do worse things, Macro. Far worse.’
‘And there was me thinking that we only had to watch our backs when in Rome.’ Macro swore under his breath. ‘Fuck, what is it with us, Cato? Everywhere we end up we need eyes in the back of our heads. It’s like we’re cursed or something. I thought we’d left that all behind when we came back to Britannia.’
They continued in silence for a while as the track levelled out and then there was a shout from the man riding point. At once Trebellius gave the order to halt and called for the rider to make his report.
‘Something ahead, sir, on the track!’
‘What is it?’
‘Can’t quite make it out. There was a gap in the mist, now it’s gone again.’ The man’s voice betrayed his nervousness and Macro flicked his reins to urge his horse forward.
‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Come on.’
For a moment Cato felt a spark of irritation at his friend taking the initiative before he could react. Then Cato kicked his heels into Hannibal’s flanks and set off after Macro. As they passed the decurion, Macro gestured to him. ‘You too, sunshine.’
The three officers trotted along the track for a hundred paces before they saw the figure of the point rider emerge from the swirling mist, his spear already in his hand as he stared into the gloom beyond.
‘What did you see?’ Macro demanded as they reined in beside the soldier. ‘Out with it, lad!’
‘There was something on the track, sir.’
‘Something?’ Macro growled. ‘Try being more specific. Something, or someone?’
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