Jack Ludlow: The Gods of War

‘It falls to a son to carry out the funeral rites of his father, in the Celtic religion as well as the Roman one.’

He stepped forward and jabbed the flaming torch into the dry kindling. It took immediately and the flames shot up to engulf the body. Soaked as it was in that potent grain spirit which had preserved it all the way back from Spain, the corpse flared in a great whoosh of flame that made Aquila’s men jump backwards.

‘He even weaves spells in death,’ said Claudia, with wonder.

Aquila turned to his mother. In his hand he held the gold eagle that had been given to him by those scarecrows outside the walls of Numantia.

‘It’s time you had your own property back.’

With that, he tried to put the gold charm, with the wings that made it look so like an eagle in flight, over his mother’s head. Claudia put a hand up to stop him, then took it herself, holding it out so that the precious metal picked up the flickering light from the billowing flames.

‘No. Let Brennos take it with him. He always believed that he would conquer Rome. Now, his ashes will. He cannot be allowed to go to his resting place without some symbol of his dream.’

Claudia kissed the eagle, then threw it into the flames.