Simon Scarrow - When the Eagle hunts

Even though it meant the certain death of his family he'd be sure to try and persuade others that we had no alternative. In time everyone would see the point and come round to your way of thinking.'

'Hmmm.' Macro nodded slowly, pressing a thick knuckle to his forehead as if that might help him concentrate his tired mind. He needed time to think this through.

'We'll be tiding light, won't we, sir?' Cato continued cheerfully. 'I suppose I'd better offload anything we don't need. Anything that might slow us down when we run back to the legion.'

'Nobody's running back anywhere!'

'Sorry, sir. I didn't mean it to sound that way. Just keen to get moving.'

'Oh, are you? Well, you can lust stop tight there. Leave the packs alone.'

'Sir?'

'I said leave 'em. We're n0! going back. Not yet at least.

Not until we've searched a little longer.'

'But you just said-'

'Shut it! I've made my decision. We keep looking.

Anyone else got any objections.?' Macro turned to the Icenians, jaw thrust out, dating them to challenge him.

Boudica struggled to hide a grin. Prasutagus, as usual, grasped the wrong end of the stick and nodded his head vigorously.

'We fight now, Roman?'

'No. Not now!' Macro snapped, exasperated. 'When we've got a little more time on our hands, and only if you're a good boy until then. All right? Better make sure he gets that clear, Boudica.'

Prasutagus looked disappointed, but his natural good humour overcame any inclination to sulk. He reached over to Macro and gave the centurion a hearty slap on the shoulder with his huge paw.

'Ha! You good man, Roman. We friends, maybe.'

'Don't count on it.' Macro smiled as sweetly as his scarred veteran's face would permit. 'Meanwhile, we need to decide what to do next.'

Cato coughed. 'Sir, it occurs to me that the Druids might have some sacred place, somewhere secret, known only to themselves.'

'Yes. So?'

'So we might want to press Prasutagus on that point.

After all, he was a novice once. You might want to ask him if the Druids have such a place, somewhere where the general's family could be held safely.'

'True.' Macro eyed the Icenian warrior thoughtfully.

'Strikes me our man might just have been holding outon us.

Ask him, Boudica.'

She turned to her kinsman and translated. The warrior's expression changed completely. He shook his head.

'Someone's not very happy. What's the matter?'

'He says there is no such sacred place.'

'He's lying. And he's no good at it. You better tell him.

And tell him I want the truth, fight now.'

Prasutagus shook his head again, and started to shuffle

Simon Scarrow away from Macro, until the centurion's hand shot out and trapped the Iceni warrior's wrist in an iron grip.

'No more of your bullshit! I want the truth.'

For a while the two men stared at each other, faces taut and uncompromising. Then Prasutagus nodded, and began to speak quietly, his tone resigned and fearful.

'There is a sacred grove,' Boudica translated. 'He was trained there for a while… It's where he failed the initiation into the second ring. The Druids call it the grove of the sacred crescent. It's the place where Cruach will rise and reclaim the world for himself one day. Any day. Until then his spirit hangs like a black shadow over every stone, leaf and blade of grass in the grove. You can hear the cold rasp of his breath through the limbs of the trees. Prasutagus warns you that Cruach will sense your presence at once and will show no mercy to the enemies of his servants. No mercy.'

'I've seen enough of this world to know that the only thing anyone needs to be afrai of is other men, said Macro.

'If your cousin's afraid, tell h]m I'll hold his hand for him.'

Boudica ignored the last comment and continued with Prasutagus's warning. 'He says that the grove is on an island at the centre of a large marsh two days' ride from here.

There's a small causeway leading to the main entrance, and that's always heavily guarded. We'd never make it in that way.'

'Then there's another way in;' Cato guessed shrewdly. 'A way in that Prasutagus discovered?'

'Yes.' Boudica glanced quickly at her kinsman, and he nodded for her to continue. 'He used it to visit the daughter of the man commanding the Druids' guards. She got pregnant and as soon as the Druids discovered he had broken his oath of celibacy he was thrown out of the order.'

Macro roared with laughter, causing the others to glance anxiously around, but nothing stirred in the surrounding trees.

'Oh dear!' Macro wiped his eyes and grinned at Prasutagus. 'You just can't resist a bloody challenge, can you? You got kicked out on account of a piece of tail – what a prat! You know, I think we might just get on after all.'

'This way in.' Cato leaned closer to Boudica. 'Does anyone else know about it?'

'Prasutagus doesn't think so. It's a series of shallows through the water. It ends in a thicket on the bank of the island close to the grove. Prasutagus says he marked it out with a line of coppice stakes, placed quite far apart.'

'Can he find it again? After all these years?'

'He thinks so.'

'I'm not reassured,' said Macro.

'Maybe not,' said Cato. 'But it's the only chance we've got left, sir. We take it or go home empty-handed. We face the consequences either way.'

Macro stared at Cato a moment before replying. 'You've got such a cheerful way with words, haven't you?'

'Your Druid friends have found a good place to hide from the world,' Macro muttered as he squinted through the dusk.

At his side Prasutagus gruntdd conversationally and cocked an eye at Boudica, who whispeLed a quick translation of the centurion's words.

'Sa!' Prasutagus agreett vigorously. 'Safe place for Druids. Bad place for Romar..'

'That's as maybe. But we're going in there all the same.

What d'you think, lad?'

Cato's dark eyes took in the scene through the tangle of coppice branches. They were ona slight rise, looking across a wide expanse of brackish water towards a large island.

Some of it appeared to be natural, the rest was manmade, and held in place by substantia! log tresses and stout piles driven deep into the soft bottom of the lake. A thick growth of mixed willow and ash towered up a short, distance from the shore of the island. Under their boughs a tall stockade was visible. Beyond that, their gaze could not penetrate.

Away to their right, a long, narrow causeway stretched out across the lake towards a substantial towered gate leading into the Druids' most sacred and secret grove.

'It's a good set-up, sir. The causeway is long enough to keep them out of arrow and sling range and it's narrow enough to restrict any attackers to a two- or three-man front.

Even against an army, with the right men the Druids could hold out for several days, maybe a month or so.'

'Good assessment.' Macro nodded approvingly. 'You've learned a lot over the last year or so. What would you recommend, in the absence of an attacking army?'

'The main entrance is out of the question under any circumstances, now that they've been alerted to the presence of Prasutagus. Looks like we've no choice. We have to try his way in, sir.'

Macro looked at the gloomy water between them and the Druids' island. There was no shore on the near ground, only a tangle of reeds and low trees rising above dark peaty mud.

If they were caught wading through that lot there would be no chance of escape. He wondered at the Iceni warrior's confidence that he could find his trail again in the dark. Yet Prasutagus had sworn by all his most sacred gods that he would lead them safely across to the island. But they must trust him, and follow him precisely.