Talbo heaved himself over the side and started to shimmy away, leaving Cato alone on the foredeck. Another wave struck, and the wreck shifted again, more noticeably this time, and a section of the deck split open. His judgement of the sailor was correct, and Cato had to restrain himself from shouting encouragement to the man to move faster. He was shivering violently now and the feeling had gone from his toes. He rubbed his hands together hard and clapped them to try and keep them from locking up.
At last Talbo reached the side of the boat, and the sailors hauled him in. At once Cato clambered over the rail, grasped the rope, swung his legs over it and pulled himself hand over hand along it. Each time the sea washed over what was left of the wreck, the rope jerked and he swayed over the rocks and then the surging foam of the sea. Dropping his head and glancing back, he saw that he was close to the boat and the sailors were urging him on with desperate gestures. At first he did not grasp their anxiety, then he looked up and saw that the last section of the bow was swaying from side to side. Suddenly the bow post gave a lurch and toppled, the rope slackened and he plunged down into the sea.
Once again he was violently seized by its icy grip, and this time he held his breath and clung to the rope rather than try to reach the surface. If he released it, he knew he might not have the strength to swim to safety. As he hung on, he felt a tug, and his body moved through the icy depths. Just as his lungs were starting to burn, he broke the surface a short distance from the boat, and then hands grasped him and pulled him over the side and dumped him unceremoniously into the well of the craft.
‘Cast us loose!’ Talbo roared. ‘Before the fucking wreck takes us down with it! Don’t untie it, you fool! Cut it! Out of my way.’
Cato looked up in a daze and saw the sailor against the failing light of day sawing at the rope with his knife. The hemp parted strand by strand and then the severed end flickered and was gone. Talbo sheathed his knife and gave the order to head for the shore. Then he picked up Cato’s sodden tunic and laid it over him as he lay shaking in the water slopping about the bottom of the boat.
‘Rest easy, Cato. Your job’s done, mate.’
Talbo patted him on the shoulder and then called the time for the men on the oars as the little craft rose and fell on the rough sea, lurching away from the danger of the rocks and making for safety. Cato felt a terrible weariness seep through his body and was tempted to close his eyes and drift off. But he feared that call to sleep. What if he never woke? Instead he propped himself up against the stern bench and hugged his knees as he shivered, teeth chattering.
At last his ears filled with the crash of waves on shingle and the boat lurched as it grounded, lifted again and then thudded home more solidly. The sailors shipped their oars and jumped over the side to draw the craft up the beach. Talbo leaned back in, offering a hand. Cato took it willingly and allowed himself to be helped out on to the pebbles. Dusk was gathering along the shore and the gloom was made worse by the snow, which was falling heavily now.
‘My boots,’ he said weakly, and the sailor reached in and handed them to him.
‘There you go, mate. I’ll see what I can do about a cloak for you, and some wine, food and a warm fire. Then I’ll get you back to your ship.’
As Cato nodded dumbly, the sound of footsteps racing over the shingle reached his ears.
‘Sir! Sir! Prefect Cato!’
He glanced up and saw Miro and several of his men rushing forward with excited and relieved expressions. One had already removed his cloak and now pressed it around Cato’s shoulders as Talbo looked on with raised eyebrows.
‘Prefect Cato? Well, I . . . I . . . Fuck me.’ Talbo laughed. ‘I thought you was a sailor. One of us. Never thought I’d have my life saved by a landsman. An officer at that.’
‘It takes all kinds, Talbo.’ Cato smiled thinly.
They clasped arms again and grinned with the delight and relief of men who had faced grave peril together and lived through it.
‘And as for that wine? Make it Falernian, and bring it to my tent. I’ll hold you to it.’
‘Aye, sir. That I will. On my word.’
There was a pause, and both men instinctively looked back towards the rocks. There was no longer any sign of the transport. The storm had destroyed it completely and swallowed the remains. Out in the white-capped waters of the bay, the battered survivors of the fleet were dropping anchor or being beached by their exhausted crews amid the wind and snow that was starting to settle on the surrounding landscape. Winter had finally arrived in earnest, Cato reflected grimly, and he wondered if their troubles were only just beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Cato winced as the headquarters trumpets blared into the morning air and a moment later the first battery of bolt-throwers went into action. The usual crack of the throwing arms springing forward was reduced to a softer snap by the layer of snow that had blanketed the landscape during the night. Three inches or so, and it had drifted in front of the enemy palisade and against their shelters beyond. Puffs of white exploded where the iron-headed bolts smashed into the palisade timbers encrusted with frost and snow. At once the enemy warriors who had been lining the defences, shouting insults at the Romans, ducked out of sight. After the last of the bolts struck home there was a brief pause before the dark dots of their faces reappeared along the defences. The jeering began to start again, prematurely, as the second battery unleashed its missiles, concentrating on the same stretch of defences at the centre of the enemy line. As Cato watched, one of the defenders, bolder than his comrades, stood tall, waving his fists. An instant later a bolt struck him squarely in the chest and he was hurled back out of sight.
‘First blood to us,’ chuckled Legate Valens of the Fourteenth Legion as he stood at Cato’s side. ‘Those savages never seem to learn what modern weapons can do. Won’t be long before we knock their defences to pieces.’
Cato nodded. Over a hundred bolt-throwers and catapults had accompanied the army, and between them they would be more than enough to breach the enemy’s defences, as well as causing them heavy losses. However, the advantage would only lie with the Romans with respect to the defences on this side of the channel. The artillery would lack the range to attack the Druids’ defences lining the shore of Mona. He turned to gaze along the coast to where the four surviving warships were leading what was left of the transports towards the northern entrance of the channel between the mainland and Mona. The warships had a handful of artillery pieces with which to support the landing on the island, but Cato doubted they would be enough to turn the tide of battle. The assault troops would have to struggle ashore through the icy shallows before attacking the fortifications protecting the narrowest stretch of the channel. He could see that the rest of the shoreline facing the mainland was protected by lesser earthworks and lines of sharpened stakes. The only other option was the narrow, muddy causeway that was briefly explored at low tide. Even that was protected by a thick belt of sharpened stakes. It was going to be a bloody business.
Legate Quintatus and his senior officers were watching proceedings from a small hillock a short distance behind the men of the Fourteenth, who were still moving into position in preparation for the attack that would go in once a number of practicable breaches had been torn through the enemy’s palisade. On the flanks of the legion stood the four auxiliary cohorts chosen to support the assault, two of which were missile units comprised of archers and slingers from the Balearic islands. The Blood Crows were positioned on the right flank. Their horses were still in camp; the entire unit would be fighting on foot, together with the legionary cohort to which they had been attached since the beginning of the year. Such was the fear that the Blood Crows struck into enemy hearts that Quintatus had decided to have them join the assault.