Simon Scarrow - When the Eagle hunts

Cato looked round at the nearest trees, and picked one that had plenty of branches, promising to be an easy climb.

Limb by limb he pulled himself up the tree, until the trunk became thin enough to sway hnder his weight. With one arm wrapped round the rough bark, Cato parted the slender branches. He had lost his belarngs and could not see the hill fort at first. Then, adjustifg his footing, he tried another direction and gazed down.n the grassy sward running beside the river. He could se.e the trestle bridge and followed the line of the track leading up to the hill fort.

Cato was awed anew by the scale of the ramparts. How many men had laboured fo how many years to create this vast monument to the might of the Durotriges? How many men would it cost Rome to take this hill fort when the time came for the legions to march-west? Of course it would be his legion, the Second, that would be tasked with storming those ramparts. The legion had only just managed to best the Britons in setpiece battles. Would they be able to storm their formidable fortresses? Cato had read of siegecraft as a child but had not been called upon to practise it since he had joined the eagles. The prospect of assaulting those towering ramparts of earth filled him with dread.

A heavy thump from below startled him and he nearly let go of the trunk. Cato looked down through the branches and saw Prasutagus searching around for him. By the tree trunk lay the body of a dead pig with a bloody tear in its throat.

'Up here!' Cato called.

Prasutagus tilted his head back, then laughed as he caught sight of Cato. He reached for one of the lower branches.

'No. Stay there. I'm coming down.'

On the ground, Cato eyed the pig appreciatively. 'Where did you get it?'

'Where?' Cato pointed at the pig.

'Ah!' Prasutagus pointed along the ridge, and mimed a valley, and another ridge. Then he paused, frowning, as he tried to think how to mime the next part. The word suddenly came to him. 'Farm!'

'You took this from a farm?'

Prasutagus nodded, smiling widely.

'Where was the farmer?'

Prasutagus drew a line across his throat.

'Oh great! That's all we need,' Cato said angrily.

Prasutagus raised a calming hand.

'I hide body. No one find.'

'I'm glad to hear it. But what happens when he's missed?

What then, you fool?'

Prasutagus shrugged his huge shoulders, as if that was no concern of his. He turned to the pig.

'We eat?'

'Yes.' Cato's stomach rumbled. Both men laughed spontaneously at the sound. 'We eat. Now.'

With long-practised skill Prasutagus gutted the pig with his dagger, placing the inedible organs in a glistening pile.

Then he shoved the lot down the hollow interior of the tree trunk, saving the liver for a little snack later. After wiping his bloodstained hands with clumps of damp moss, he started gathering branches.

'No fire,' ordered Cato. He pointed upwards, then towards the hill fort. 'No smoke.'

Prasutagus had obviously,fixed his heart on roast pork and for a moment he baulked at the prospect of eating the pig raw. But then he shrugged and drew his dagger again.

He hacked strips of flesh from the pig's loin and tossed one to Cato. The pink flesh had' blood and white membrane on it, but Cato hungrily sank his,.teeth into the still warm meat and forced himself to chew..

After they had eaten their fill, Prasutagus pushed the carcass into the hollow trunk and covered the end with some branches. Then they rested in turns until nightfall, when they moved down the slope, carrying the pig with them.

They headed away from the hill.fort until they discovered a small hollow where an ancient oak had fallen, wrenching up the earth attached to its myriad roots. There they toiled to light a small fire with dry moss and flints from Cato's haversack. When the kindling had finally caught, they carefully built the fire up and roasted the pig. In the red glow of the warming flames, Cato sat with his arms round his knees savouring the sizzle of fat and the rich aroma of meat. At length, Prasutagus stood up and carved it, placing a large steaming pile on a stone beside Cato. They feasted till they could not eat another scrap and fell asleep with warm, full bellies.

For the next two days they took turns to keep watch on the hill fort, and saw a steady stream of tribespeople making their way towards it. There were wagons too, and small herds of animals, including sheep, driven up from their spring pastures, even though the lambing season was imminent. Clearly, the Durotriges were preparing their people for a siege, which meant they had had news of an approaching enemy. Right now that enemy could only be Rome; the Second Legion must be on the march. Cato's pulse raced at the realisation. In days, perhaps, the legionaries would throw a ring of steel round the hill fort and the Druids and their prisoners would have nowhere to flee. The general's wife and son would be used as bargaining counters to ameliorate the terms of the hill fort's surrender – unless the Durotriges were every bit as mad as the Druids and opted to fight Rome to their last breath. In that case there was little hope for Lady Pomponia and Aelius.

Cato had agreed with Prasutagus that on the third day one of them should return to the place Boudica had left them; that was the earliest she could be expected to return.

So at dusk Cato slipped back across the track and headed towards the forest. Despite his certainty that he could recall the route by which he and Prasutagus had travelled, the trees seemed strange in the dark, and he failed to find the ruins of the silver mine. He tried to retrace his steps and "only succeeded in becoming even more lost. As the night wore on, caution gave way to speed and the undergrowth crackled and rustled under his feet. He was on the point of calling out for Boudica when a dark figure stepped out from behind a tree directly in front ofhim. Cato flipped his cloak back anddrew his sword.

'Why not just sound a trumpet next time you want to attract some attention?' Boudica chuckled. 'I thought I must have discovered one of Claudius's lost elephants.'

For a moment Cato just stared at Boudica's outline, then with a nervous laugh he lowered his blade and took a deep breath.

'Shit, Boudica, you scared me!'

'You deserved it. Where'i my cousin?'

'He's fine. He's keeping watch on the hill fort. Unless he's gone hunting for pig farmers again.'

'What? Never mind. Exilain later. Now listen to me.

There's not much time, and I've got something really scary to tell you.'

The edge of the night sky was washed with the pale glow of dawn by the time Cato and Boudica reached the hollow where Prasutagus was waiting. They had left her horse tied to a tree in the silver workings, with a full bag of feed to keep it company. The two Iceni embraced warmly in greeting, each obviously relieved that the other was safe and well. Although safe was pushing it a bit, Cato reflected.

Being camped in a forest barely a mile from their savage enemy was not so very safe at all.

Boudica gratefully accepted some cold pork, but sniffed suspiciously before taking a bite.

'How old is this delightful morsel?'

'Nearly three days. It should be all right to eat.'

'Well, I'm hungry enough, so thanks? She tore offa strip off the grey meat and chewed. 'Now then, my news. You'll have to excuse me if I talk while I eat.'

'Fine.' Cato nodded impatiently.

'I managed to reach an Atrebate village the night after I left you. They told me that a Roman army had passed through earlier in the day. Seemed quite awed by the experience. Anyway, I set off straight away and we caught up with Vespasian a few hours later. The Second Legion is making directly for the Great Fortress. Vespasian aims to knock it out of the campaign first, as an example to any Durotriges planning to hold him off in other hill forts.'