Simon Scarrow - When the Eagle hunts

While the others happily ate the cakes, he had to force himself to chew his. He watched Vellocatus and his wife with a growing sense of unease and anxiety.

'Are you sure they're asleep?' whispered Macro.

Boudica took a last glance at the still forms huddled beneath their furs on the low bier and nodded.

'Right, you'd better let Prasutagus have his say.'

Earlier, the Iceni warrior had quietly asked Boudica to let the others know he wanted a word before they passed into Durotrigan territory the next day. Their host had insisted on broaching a cask of ale and had made enough toasts to ensure his happy inebriation before he staggered over to his wife and fell asleep. Now he breathed with the regular deep rhythm of one who would not wake for many hours yet.

Against the occasional rumbling of snores from the shadows, Prasutagus briefed the rest of his party in low, serious tones.

He watched the others closely as Boudica translated, to make sure that the gravity of his words sank in.

'He says, once we cross the river, we must be seen as little as possible. This may well be the last night we can enjoy shelter. There will be no fires at night if there is any chance of them being seen by the enemy and we will make as little contact with the Durotriges as possible. We will search for another twenty days, until the Druids' deadline has passed. Prasutagus says that if we find nothing by then we head back. To stay any longer would be too dangerous, given that your legion will be marching against the Durotriges in only a few days' time. The moment the first legionary sets foot on Durotrigan soil, every stranger travelling their lands will be regarded as a potential spy.

'That wasn't the deal,' Macro protested quietly. 'The orders were to find the general's family, alive or dead.'

'Not if the deadline has passed, he says.'

'He'll follow his orders, like the rest of us.'

'Speak for yourself, Macro,' said Boudica. 'If Prasutagus goes, then I go, and you're on your own. We didn't agree to suicide.'

Macro glared angrily at BOudjca. 'We? Who is this "we", Boudica? The last time we were together this one was just some lunk of a relative who eouldn't resist playing the father figure to you and your mate.,:What's changed?'

'Everything,' Boudica replied quickly. 'What's past is past, and whatever's to cone must not be tainted by the past.'

'Tainted?' Macro's eyebrows rose. 'Tainted? Is that all I was to you?'

'That's all you are to me now.'

Prasutagus hissed. He nodded his head towards their hosts and wagged his finger at Macro, warning him to lower his voice. Then he Spoke quietly to Boudica, who relayed his words.

'Prasutagus says the route he has planned will take us through the heart of Durotrigan territory. That's where we'll find the bigger villages and settlements, the most likely places where your general's family might be held.'

'What if we're caught?' Cato asked.

'If we're caught, and handed over to the Druids, then you two and I will be burned alive. He'll face a far worse death.'

'Worse?' Macro sniffed. 'What could be worse?'

'He says he'll be skinned alive, and then fed piece by piece to their hunting dogs while he still draws breath. His skin, and head, will be nailed to an oak outside their most sacred glade as a warning to Druids of all levels of the fate that will befall any who betray the brotherhood.'

'Oh…'

A short silence fell. Then Prasutagus told them to get some sleep. Tomorrow they would be in enemy country and would need all their wits about them.

'There's just one more thing,' Cato said softly.

Prasutagus had started to rise to his feet, and shook his head at the optio. 'Na! Sleep now!'

'Not yet,' Cato insisted, and with a hiss of anger Prasutagus sat down again. 'How can we be sure this farmer can be trusted?' whispered Cato.

Prasutagus explained impatiently, and nodded to Boudica to translate.

'He says he has known Vellocatus since he was a young boy. Prasutagus trusts him and will stand by that trust.'

'Oh, that's reassuring!' said Macro.

'But I don't understand why Vellocatus can live here, right on the doorstep of the Durotriges, and not be afraid of cross-border raids,' Cato persisted. 'I mean, if they wipe out an entire settlement well inside Verica's lands, why leave this place alone?'

'What's your point?' Boudica asked wearily.

'Just this.' Cato reached into the wicker basket by the hearth and quietly withdrew the silver platter, careful not to disturb the crockery. He showed the platter to Macro. 'I'm almost certain I've seen this before, in the storage pit at Noviomagus. We left the booty there, if you recall, sir. No space in the wagons.'

'I remember.' Macro sighed regretfully. 'But if this is the same platter, how did it get here?'

Cato shrugged, reluctant to voice his suspicions. If he accused Vellocatus of working for the enemy, Prasutagus might not react too well. 'I s.uppose it might have been traded by Diomedes. But if' it is the same platter, then Vellocatus can only have been given it by the raiding party.

Once we had moved out, I im,:agine the surviving Durotriges went back for their spoils.'..

'Or maybe Vellocatus was in the raiding party himself,'

Macro added.

As Boudica translated-from the Latin, Prasutagus looked hard at the platter, and then suddenly rose to his feet, turned towards Vellocatus and started to draw his sword.

'No!' Cato jumped up and-clasped Prasutagus by his sword hand. 'We've no proof. I might be wrong. Killing them serves no purpose. It'll just alert the Durotriges to our presence if they find him dead.'

Boudica translated and Prasutagus frowned, softly uttering a string of oaths. He released his grip on the sword handle and folded his arms.

'But if you're right about this Vellocatus,' Macro pointed out, 'then we can't let him live to tell any passer-by that he's seen us. We'll have to kill him and the rest of them here before dawn.'

Cato was shocked. 'Sir, we don't have to do that.'

'You got a better idea?'

The young optio thought fast under the cool gaze of the others.

'If Vellocatus is working with the Durotriges, we might yet turn that to our advantage by making sure that whatever he tells anyone else serves our ends.'

They set off again in darkness, following Vellocatus down a track to the ford. The party had breakfasted on the unwarmed remains of the broth, which was scant comfort in the clammy mist that hung over the icy water and shrouded the willow trees lining the bank. At the edge of the ford Vellocatus stood to one side, watching them mount. When all was ready, Prasutagus leaned dowel,: from his saddle and quietly thanked their host, clasping,him by the hand. Then as the farmer stepped back into the. black shadows of the willows, Prasutagus spurred his horse and the quiet was broken by the churning splash of the horses-entering the river. The shock of the freezing water startled the animals and they whinnied in protest. The water rose up the horses' flanks and over Cato's boots, adding to his misery. He tried to console himself with the thought that at least the flo would wash away some of the filth that had caked his feet for several days now. Not for the first time, Cato wished himsetfa slave again, in the service of the imperial palace in Rome: Liberty he might not have, but at least he would be free of the endless discomfort of being a legionary on campaign. Right now he would have given his soul in exchange for a few hours' sweating in one of the public baths back in Rome. Instead, he was shivering uncontrollably, his feet were going numb and the immediate future seemed to promise only a terrible death.

'Are we happy?' grirmed Macro, riding beside him.

'Are we fuck!' Cato completed the army saying with feeling.