Simon Scarrow - When the Eagle hunts

'So they forced you never, to see me again?'

Boudica nodded.

'And you went along with it.'

She turned her face to him, twisted with bitterness. 'What else could I do? They said if I was ever caught with another Roman I'd be beaten again. I thj'nk I'd rather die than face that. Truly.' Her expression softened. 'Sorry, Macro. I can't risk it. I have to think about my future.'

'Your future?' Macro was scornful. 'You mean marriage to Prasutagus? I must admit; that came as a bloody big surprise. Why did you agree tO it? I mean, he's not exactly the sharpest arrow in the quiver.'

'No. He's not. But he is well-positioned for the future.

An Iceni prince with a household in Camulodunum and a growing reputation in the tribe. Now he's developing a useful relationship with your general. With this mission he will win Plautius's gratitude.'

'I wouldn't put too much faith in that,' muttered Macro.

He had experience of just how short-lived the general's gratitude could be.

Boudica gave him a curious glance. When he did not elaborate, she continued, 'If we manage to find the general's family, Prasutagus will have more influence with Rome than almost any other Briton. And if Rome does eventually conquer this island, those people who helped her do so are bound to be rewarded.'

'Those people, and the wives of those people.'

'Yes.'

'I see. Well, you've come a long way over the last month.

I hardly recognise you.'

Boudica was injured by his cynical tone and looked away. Macro did not regret his remark, but at the same time he could not make himself dislike Boudica enough to enjoy insulting her. He wished he could find some hint of the brassy, affectionate girl he had fallen for back in Camulodunum. 'Are you really so cold-blooded?'

'Cold-blooded?' The idea seemed tosurprise her. 'No.

I'm not cold-blooded. I'm just making the most of what has been forced on me. If I was a man, if I had power, then things would be very different. But I'm a woman, the weaker sex, and I have to do what I'm told. That's the only choice I have, for now.'

There was a pause before Macro summoned the courage to speak. 'No, you had another choice. You could have chosen me.'

Boudica turned and looked at him closely. 'You're serious, aren't you?'

'Very.' Macro's heart soared as he saw Boudica smile.

Then her eyes fell away and she shook her head.

'No. It's out of the question.'

'Why?'

'It would be no life for me. I'd be an outcast from my tribe. What if you tired of me after a while? I'd have nothing left. I know what becomes of such women, pathetic hags who follow the army and llve off the legion's scraps, until disease or some violent drunk does for them. Would you wish that on me?'

'Of course not! It wouldn't be like that. I would provide for you.',: 'Provide for me? You don't make it sound very appealing.

I'd be rootless, and at your mercy, in your world. I couldn't bear that. Despite what I've learned of life beyond the lands of the Iceni, I'm still Iceni through and through. And you're Roman. I might speak your language well enough, but that's as far as I want Rome to penetrate my being – and none of your filthy innuendo, please!".

They both smiled for a moment, and then Macro raised his rough soldier's hand to her cheek, marvelling at its softness. Boudica remained still. Then, very tenderly, her lips brushed his palm in a soft kiss that sent tingles up Macro's arm. He slowly leaned forward.

There was a heavy thud outside the lodge. The leather flap hanging across the entrance was flung to one side.

Macro and Boudica sprang apart. The centurion snatched up some kindling and began snapping it into pieces and thrusting it at Boudica, who resumed laying the fire. A dark figure blotted out the light from the doorway. Macro and Boudica, squinted at the silhouetted figure.

'Prasutagus?'

'Sa!' He moved inside the lodge, dragging the gutted carcass of a small deer after him. The light fell on the Iceni warrior's face, revealing a faint look of amusement in his eyes.

For the next five days they travelled deeper into Durotrigan territory, cautiously riding along trails by night and finding somewhere to hide and rst during the day. Prasutagus seemed tireless, never sleeping more than a few hours. Each stage of their journey was planned by him to bring them close to a village. He rested until midday, and then slipped into each village to look fox any signs of Roman hostages.

At dusk he returned with.meat for the others, which they cooked over a low fire, luddling round to draw as much warmth as they could from the flames in the bitter night air.

Once they had eaten, they put the fire out and followed Prasutagus as he picked his way. along well-used trails. Every farmstead and small settlement was carefully circumvented and there were frequent stops.while the Iceni warrior made sure that the way ahead was clear before they continued.

Just before dawn heled them off the tracks into the nearest woodland, and would not let them stop until they had discovered a dip in the forest floor where the party could rest for the day unobserved.

They covered themselves with cloaks and the blankets from their mounts and slept as well as they could in such uncomfortable conditions. A watch was kept throughout the day, and all four of them took their turn, standing quietly in the shadows of the forest, a short distance from the camp.

Cato, younger and thinner than the others, suffered most from the cold, and his sleep was fitful and broken. The temperature had dropped below freezing on the second day and the penetrating cold of the frozen earth made his hip joints so stiff that he could barely move his legs when he woke up.

On the fifth day, a mist closed in. Prasutagus left them as usual to scout round the next village. While they waited hungrily for him to reappear with the day's meal, Boudica and the two Romans prepared a small fire. A light breeze was blowing through the forest, and they had to build a turf windbreak round the fireplace. Cato collected some fallen branches from beneath the nearest trees, every so often pausing to rub his hips and ease the stiffness in his joints.

When he had amassed enough fuel to maintain the fire for the few hours it would be needed, he slumped down between Boudica and his centurion, who sat opposite each other on either side of the fireplace. At first no one spoke. The wind steadily strengthened and they clutched their cloaks more tightly about them against the biting cold. A few paces away the horses and ponies stood in sullen silence, lank manes lifting and flapping with each gust.

There were now only fifteen days left before the Druids' deadline. Cato doubted that they would find the general's family in time. There was no point in their being here. There was nothing they could do to prevent the Druids from murdering their hostages. Nothing. Five nights of tense scrambling through enemy territory had taken their toll and Cato did not think he could cope with much more. Cold and filthy, exhausted in mind and body, he was in no condition to keep looking for the hostages, let alone to rescue them.

This was a fool's errand, and the hostile glances Macro increasingly threw his way convinced Cato that he would never be forgiven for his stupidity – assuming they ever made it back to the Second Legion.

Above the dark interlace of tossing branches, the sky dimmed into dusk, and still!there was no sign of Prasutagus.

At length Boudica rose to her feet and stretched her arms behind her back with a deep grunt.

'I'll just go a little way'down towards the track,' she said.

'See if there's any sign of m.'

'No,' Macro said firrn!y. 'Sit tight. We can't take the risk.'

'Risk? Who in their right mind would be abroad on a day like this?'