Simon Scarrow: The Eagles Prophecy

Vespasian patted the shoulder of the last marine. 'You watch them! Macro!'

'Sir?'

'Go after Minucius.'

'My pleasure.' Macro thrust the pirates to the side, ran to the far staircase and thundered up the wooden steps and out of sight.

'Cato, with me.' Vespasian held his sword ready and approached the doorway from which Minucius had emerged moments earlier. Cato looked over the prefect's shoulder and saw a large room beyond. In the furthest corner, at the end of a large table, stood Telemachus and his son. At the feet of Ajax kneeled tribune Vitellius, his wrists bound, his head yanked to one side so that his throat was exposed to the slim curved blade in Ajax's hand.

Vespasian entered the room slowly, with Cato at his side.

'Stop there!' Telemachus called out.'One step closer and your tribune dies.'

Cato glanced at Vespasian and saw a flicker of a smile before the prefect replied, 'I suppose you want to try and strike a bargain.'

Telemachus nodded. 'The life of your tribune for the lives of my son and me.'

'Really? I think you must be mistaking me for someone who gives a shit about the tribune.'

Telemachus frowned. 'I'm telling you, I'll not hesitate to have him killed.'

'Be my guest. He's a traitor.'

For a moment all was still, as Telemachus narrowed his eyes and tried to work out if the prefect was bluffing him. Then he placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

'Bleed him a little.'

With a glint of a smile Ajax nicked the tribune's neck and Vitellius yelped as a thin crimson trickle of blood rolled down his throat.

'Next time, he dies,' Telemachus said firmly.

Vespasian lowered his shield and leaned on the rim. 'Go on then. Kill him.'

The tribune glanced at Vespasian in horror and begged in a strangled gasp, 'For pity's sake…'

Vespasian gave a little shrug. 'Sorry, Tribune. Wish I could help you out. But you know the policy. No negotiating with pirates. Besides, I've not come here to save your life. I've come for the same thing you were after.'

Vitellius stared back and whispered. 'You bastard…'

Then Telemachus realised that the prefect was prepared to see Vitellius die. He snatched up a flask of lamp oil from the table and hurled it into the fire burning in the grate. The flask shattered amid a whirl of sparks, there was brief hiss and then the flames eagerly fed on the oil and roared up. While the others reeled back from the wave of heat that leaped across the room Telemachus grabbed a small black box, opened it, snatched up the scrolls inside and took three quick strides towards the flames, holding the scrolls out. He turned to Vespasian.

'Very well then! Our lives for these scrolls!'

Vespasian took a step forward. Telemachus leaned towards the flames. 'I can't hold these for long, Roman! The deal is our lives for the scrolls. You let us go. Your word on it now, or the scrolls burn!'

Vespasian clenched his fingers on the shield trim. 'I can't let you go.'

'Then you lose the scrolls.' Telemachus winced as the heat started to burn his hand. 'Last chance, Roman.'

Cato looked from man to man, and saw that each was fixed on his course. For an instant he could not believe that Vespasian would be so reckless. But then the realisation hit him. If the prefect let the scrolls burn, and let Vitellius be killed, it would be possible to place the blame at Vitellius' feet. He had the tribune's letter stating his plans, after all. Cato would be dead in any case, as soon as Narcissus knew that the scrolls had been destroyed. No doubt Macro would share the same fate…

Cato stepped forward. 'Wait.'

Telemachus and Vespasian turned towards him as Cato quickly continued, 'The scrolls in exchange for your son's life.'

'I'll make no such deal!' Vespasian said through clenched teeth.

'Sir! It's the only way you'll get the scrolls, and Telemachus…'

'My son…' Telemachus wondered aloud, then looked sidelong at Ajax, and Cato knew he had been right. That was the pirate leader's weak spot: his love for his son. Telemachus' gaze flickered back towards Vespasian.

'My son for the scrolls?'

Vespasian stared back, his expression cold and merciless. Ajax turned to his father.

'No! I will not allow it! Father, you can't do this!'

'Be quiet!' Telemachus snapped. 'Well, Roman?' Vespasian looked at the scrolls for an instant and then nodded slowly.

'Your word, Roman! Give me your word!'

'You have my word…'

'Ahhh!' Telemachus let out a cry of pain as he snatched his hands back from the flames and threw the scrolls on to the floor.

'Get those!' Vespasian barked and Cato hurried forward and gathered the scrolls, and then backed away, cradling them in his arms.

Telemachus gestured to his son. 'Let the tribune go. Cut him free.'

Ajax looked at his father in numbed horror, the blade trembling in his hand. Then he looked down at Vitellius with an expression of bitter hatred. For an instant Cato was certain he was going to cut the tribune's throat…then he leaned forward, reached down and sawed through the ropes around Vitellius' wrists. As soon as the bonds parted Vitellius scrambled away from the pirate towards the other Romans. Once he reached a safe distance he rose stiffly to his feet, breathing heavily as he faced Vespasian.

'As long as I live,' he said softly. 'I'll not forget.'

'Nor will I.' Vespasian smiled faintly. 'A lost opportunity, to be sure.'

Cato kept his eyes from the two aristocrats. There was an extremely dangerous tension in the room and he fervently wanted to remain as unobtrusive as possible. As Cato clutched the scrolls to his chest he glanced at the two pirates. After a moment's hesitation Telemachus stepped over to his son and gently placed an arm about his shoulders. Ajax stared at him, wounded and despairing, and his eyes glistened with tears, before he dropped his knife and held his father as all the grief of defeat, all the torment he had suffered at Vitellius' hands, and the terrible sacrifice of his father finally overwhelmed him. With an animal groan, his chest heaved and he poured his sorrow into the folds of cloth on his father's shoulder.

As Macro emerged on to the roof he moved warily, glancing around the doorway before he sprang through it and quickly turned round, sword poised to strike at the first sign of danger. But there was only one other person on the roof of the watchtower. From the far corner Minucius smiled uncertainly at him.

'Macro. I'd hoped it would be you.'

'Really?' Macro kept his sword up and slowly approached the traitor.

'Oh yes! You see, there isn't much time.'

'Wrong.' Macro shook his head.'You've run out of time, Minucius. You're dead meat.'

'Wait!' Minucius raised a hand. His fist was clenched about the cords from which hung a leather bag. 'There's a fortune in here! Precious stones, some gold. It's yours!'

'Mine?'

'If you help me escape.'

Macro laughed.'Escape! You're mad.' He waved his spare hand out across the citadel. Marines were running down the streets, intently searching for as much of the pirates' loot as possible.'Soon they're all going to know how you sold them out. And then you're dead the moment you show your face. There's no escape for you, Minucius.'

'You can hide me. Disguise me. Get me out of here. Do it and you'll be a rich man!'

Macro pressed his lips together for a moment, to fight the disgust he felt welling up inside him. 'There are some things a man can't be allowed to survive. Betraying your mates is one of them. Now, put the bag down and draw your sword.'

Minucius stared at him, then lowered the bag to his side. 'All right then, don't do it for the money. Do it for Portia. Do it for your mother instead. She loves me, you know? She needs me.'

'Put the bag down.'

'For her sake, Macro. Do it for her. Don't do it for me.'