Simon Scarrow - Britannia

‘Good reason being my willingness to serve Pallas?’

‘Yes,’ Quintatus replied directly. ‘As long as there is no evidence that Sempronius is directly involved with the other faction. In that case, even your efforts could not save him.’

‘I see.’ Cato felt helpless. ‘Then you leave me with no option but to serve you and Pallas.’

‘That’s right. I am glad that you see reason. But then, that’s why I made the offer, and I am sure that Pallas will approve of my decision. It seems a shame to waste such potential when it could be harnessed.’

‘Harnessed. Like a mule.’

‘Don’t be so bitter, Cato. This could all work out to your benefit in the long term. There will be plenty of rewards for those who serve the new emperor and his faction. Why shouldn’t you take your share of the spoils? That wife of yours could be kept in fine style, and your son raised in comfort and security. And you yourself will profit from the arrangement. There are plenty of military and civil posts that could be yours for the taking.’

‘And what is the price of those rewards? What is it that you would have me do exactly?’

Quintatus shrugged. ‘Nothing immediately. But you may be called on to perform a service. All that matters is that you are ready to do so, without question, if the moment arises.’

‘If?’

‘All right, then, when the moment arises . . . as it is bound to under the new regime. But for now, it is enough for me, and Pallas in turn, to know that you are on our side. There is no need to openly break with Narcissus. Indeed, if he thinks you are still in his service, then so much the better. He might entrust you with information that could be useful to us.’

‘I was never in his service. At least, I never made any agreement such as the one you are trying to force on me.’

‘My dear Prefect, you are priceless! As if it makes a difference. You worked for Narcissus, willing or no, and now you serve Pallas. Do you really think you have a choice in the matter? The only choice is between accepting that and awaiting the day when you are knifed in the back, or, if you survive your military career, answering the door of your fine house in Rome to a squad of Praetorian Guards. Then, your choice will simply be to die by your own hand or let them do the job for you, before they take your family.’

Cato gritted his teeth. ‘There are times when I wish I had remained a centurion, or even an optio, and served out my days in that rank,’ he replied quietly.

‘Wishes are ten a sestertius. In any case, you richly deserved your promotion. What you didn’t account for was the unpalatable truth that the higher you rise, the more you are enslaved to the will of those above you. A sad but vital truth.’

Cato stood still, feeling powerless to move or speak, as if tightly bound and tongueless. There was no escape from the force of the legate’s logic. None at all.

‘Look here, Cato, you must accept the situation. For now, all that need concern you is leading your men in the coming campaign. I have no doubt that you will add lustre to your fine reputation, and that can only help your prospects. Concentrate on that, eh?’

Cato swallowed. ‘Of course, sir,’ he replied calmly. ‘That goes without saying. I am, and always will be, a soldier.’

‘Good. Then you will appreciate the role I have assigned you. Your column will not be tasked with guarding the army’s baggage train, like last time. It’s time to put your talents to better use. I have decided to place you at the other end of the line of march. Your two cohorts will form the vanguard of the army. You will be my spearhead when we thrust into the heart of these mountains and fall upon the Deceanglian wretches. You will have the honour of making the first strike for Rome.’

‘Why me, sir?’

Quintatus wagged a finger at him. ‘Not because I wish to endanger you, if that’s what you are thinking. No, it’s more to do with the reputation that the Blood Crows have earned for themselves since they began serving in these lands. The sight of their banner is enough to strike fear into the enemy. When they see that red crow fluttering in the breeze, they will know that Rome intends to show them no mercy. I want you to make good on that reputation, Prefect Cato. You and your men are going to create a trail of blood and destruction such that when this campaign is over, there won’t be a tribe in the whole island that will dare to defy us ever again.’

‘The vanguard?’ Decurion Miro sighed. ‘Why us? Haven’t we been in action enough in recent months?’

Centurion Crispus raised an eyebrow. ‘You join the army, you do as you’re told and that’s the end of it. There is no why, just orders.’

Miro opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it and then puffed his cheeks as his shoulders slumped. Watching him, Cato could well understand the decurion’s reaction. The previous year the two cohorts had been sent to an outpost deep in the heart of the mountains, and the unit had been in action almost ever since. The enemy had only eased their attacks in the last months to take in the harvest and store their crops for the coming winter. Now that was over, they intended to resume their war against Rome in earnest. Cato had come to understand that Miro was the kind of man who foresaw only the dangers and difficulties in the tasks he was required to carry out. But once in action, his training and instincts took over and served him well. It was no doubt why he had been promoted to decurion in the first place, but also why he had never been entrusted with any further promotion. He was too open about his anxieties, and that kind of sentiment was easily communicated to those he commanded, affecting their confidence and morale.

There was a brief silence in Cato’s tent as his subordinates took in the implications of their assigned position in the army’s line of advance. For his part, Cato was relieved not to have to trudge at the rear again in the muddy wake of the units marching ahead of him. Moreover, he would not have to contend with the constant need to cajole the baggage train drivers to keep closed up. Of course, there would be different strains to cope with. Those at the front of the column had to have their wits about them in order to avoid ambush. Moreover, they were tasked with scouting ahead to find the best route forward for the rest of the army, following the advice of the traders who Quintatus had questioned regarding the best route to take through the mountains towards the island of Mona. It was also the vanguard’s duty to locate the most suitable ground for the construction of a marching camp at the end of the day. It would be demanding work, but it was more engaging than the drudgery of guarding the baggage train.

Cato cleared his throat. He felt tired. The hour was late and the men had only just finished their main meal of the day and retired to their tents for the night. Miro’s mounted squadrons had settled their horses and tethered them to the lines, and the musty odour of their sweat and dung carried into the tent. The army would march at dawn, and it was important that Crispus and Miro understood the roles their men would play in the days ahead.

‘Apart from being the eyes and ears of the army, Quintatus wants us to be its cutting edge too,’ said Cato. ‘We’re to go in hard whenever and wherever we encounter the enemy. He wants to cut a swathe of destruction through the lands of the Deceanglians, right up to the island of Mona.’

‘But that’s the Druids’ lair,’ Miro interrupted.

Cato quelled his irritation and nodded. ‘I am well aware of that, Decurion. That’s one of the main reasons why the legate is launching this campaign. If we can break the spirit of the tribesmen, and crush the Druid cult, then who will there be to unite the tribes against us in future? You know what the Celts are like. They’re never happier than when they’re knocking their heads together. That’s always been their weakness. But give them a figurehead to rally behind and they will fight like furies. Now that Caratacus is out of the picture, that leaves the Druids as the only force able to unify the tribes against us. Without them, we’ll be able to contain the enemy and finally have the chance to bring peace and order to the new province. The gods know it’s taken long enough already. Once we have that, then there can be discharges for the veterans, and some of us will be able to get home on leave.’