‘Best to keep all your potential troublemakers in one spot.’
Macro pursed his lips. ‘I see your point.’
‘I’m not convinced he’s our man,’ Septimus resumed. ‘But he’s worth keeping an eye on. The more interesting character is Tribune Otho. His father was promoted to the Senate by Claudius, and has proved himself trustworthy. The son, however, has become a close friend of Prince Nero.’
‘Sounds like our man,’ said Macro.
Cato cleared his throat. ‘Are you forgetting that I saved Nero’s life? He said he would repay the debt one day. Perhaps I am not in so much danger as you imply, Septimus.’
‘That was when you were serving undercover in the Praetorian Guard. Nero had no idea you were spying on behalf of Narcissus. I doubt he would even remember you now, Prefect. Besides, Nero is merely a figurehead. Pallas is the real danger. I doubt he will let some small obligation like that stand in the way of having you killed.’
They heard movement in Cato’s tent as Thraxis returned with the firewood and started to build it up in the brazier. Septimus stood up.
‘I have to go. I’ve a report to write to my father. I’ll let him know I’ve appraised you of the situation. And that you’re prepared to work with me to foil Pallas.’
‘Now wait a minute!’ Macro started.
‘He’s right,’ Cato interrupted. ‘We have to, Macro. For all our sakes.’
Macro opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut and shook his head.
‘If you need to contact me,’ Septimus spoke quietly, ‘ask for Hipparchus the wine merchant. That’s my cover. I’ll be remaining with the army for a few days, and will send word to Rome of Caratacus’s defeat. If he is taken, or killed, then Pallas’s scheme will be dealt a grievous blow.’
‘I hope you have the chance to report a defeat,’ said Cato. ‘Caratacus may defy us yet.’
‘I shall pray for victory,’ Septimus said simply. Then he clicked his fingers as if recalling something. ‘One final thing I meant to ask. Senator Vespasian. You know him well?’
The two officers exchanged a glance.
‘We have served under him,’ said Cato.
‘A damn fine officer,’ Macro added. ‘One of the best legates there is.’
Septimus smiled. ‘So I gather. There’s no doubting his soldierly qualities. I was more curious about the scale of his ambitions. Did he ever mention his plans for the future in front of you?’
‘No,’ Cato replied firmly. ‘And he would be mad to. Why do you ask?’
The imperial agent pursed his lips. ‘It’s as well to keep an eye on the more promising military commanders. And their families in some cases. Take his wife, Flavia, for example.’
‘What about her?’ asked Macro.
‘Your paths may have crossed at some point.’ He turned to Cato ‘And you certainly knew her in your youth, both at the palace and when you encountered her again when you joined Vespasian’s legion in Germany.’
Cato nodded casually. ‘That’s right.’
‘What do you make of her?’
‘I’ve never given it any thought. She was the wife of the legate. That’s all.’
Septimus stared at him and then shrugged. ‘Fair enough. Just wondered. I’ll leave you in peace now.’ Bowing his head and speaking loudly he backed towards the tent flaps. ‘A thousand apologies, Prefect! It was my mistake. I should never have accused your servant. I will send you a jar of my best wine to make amends. I bid you a good night and may your fortunes prosper in tomorrow’s battle!’
He passed out between the tent flaps and disappeared. Macro looked at Cato in despair. ‘You cannot be serious about working with-’
‘Shh!’ Cato warned him. A moment later the flap to his private quarters rustled aside and Thraxis poked his head through.
‘Prefect, the fire is lit.’
‘Thank you.’
Thraxis remained where he was and cleared his throat.
‘Is there anything else?’ asked Cato.
‘I, er, overheard the wine merchant as he left, Prefect. I take it you have resolved the matter.’
‘I did. A simple misunderstanding. He had mixed up your coins with those of another customer. You have nothing to be concerned about, Thraxis.’
The servant sighed with relief before he asked, ‘Do you wish me to bring you anything to eat or drink, Prefect?’
‘No. We’re turning in. I shall wear my new mail vest in the morning. Be sure that it is laid out with the rest of my kit.’
‘Yes, Prefect.’
‘Then you may go.’
Thraxis saluted and ducked away. They waited a moment before Macro spoke in an undertone. ‘As I was saying, we’d be mad to let ourselves get lured back into working for Narcissus.’
‘Macro, we have little choice. Just because we don’t want to be involved in the struggle between Narcissus and Pallas doesn’t mean that they won’t involve us. Now it seems they have. If Pallas is a threat to us we can’t just ignore it. And if Septimus is telling the truth about the wider situation then we’re in even bigger danger, and everyone else in the army along with us.’
‘If he’s telling the truth.’
‘Can we take the risk that he isn’t?’
Macro gritted his teeth. ‘Fuck. . Fucking Narcissus. The bastard sticks to you like a dose of the clap. We ain’t ever going to be free of him, are we?’ he added miserably. ‘Nor, it seems, is that poor sod Vespasian. Nor his wife. What was all that about Flavia?’
‘I have no idea.’ Cato shrugged. ‘Chin up. We might finally get shot of Narcissus, depending on how tomorrow works out.’
‘Oh great. Thank you for being such a cheery sod,’ Macro grumbled as he turned towards the entrance to the tent. ‘Just what I needed before I hit the sack.’
Cato watched him until he was out of sight. Then he stood up, closed his eyes and stretched out his arms and cracked his shoulders. Macro was right, there was much to think about. Much to worry about. But before that, there was a battle to fight.
CHAPTER NINE
‘There we go,’ Macro said as the headquarters’ trumpets sounded, the flat notes echoing back off the cliffs on the opposite side of the river. Before the sound had died away they saw the men of the artillery batteries throw their weight against the locking levers. An instant later the arms of the ballistas snapped forward, releasing their deadly heavy bolts in a shallow arc towards the enemy defences. Behind the ballistas were ranged the catapults, throwing their rounded stones in a much higher trajectory. The artillery had been set up on a platform constructed by engineers during the night, high enough to prevent any stray missiles ploughing through the ranks of the legionaries formed up a short distance from the river.
General Ostorius had placed the Twentieth Legion, his strongest, in the front line. The second line comprised the Fourteenth and the detachment from the Ninth. For the first time since the garrison of Bruccium had joined the army, Cato was able to see the legions arrayed for battle. Many cohorts were clearly under-strength, some fielded less than half the men they should have. He estimated that there were no more than seven thousand in all. From what he had seen of the enemy forces, it was clear that the legionaries were outnumbered. Worse still, the enemy had the considerable advantage of defending the high ground. The legionaries had been ordered to leave their javelins in the camp as they were poor weapons to use against enemy on steep ground. The hill would be taken with the sword, the general had decided. One cavalry cohort, besides the Blood Crows, was all that was present of the auxiliary troops, the rest were spread around the far side of the hill, to block any retreat by Caratacus’s army.
Or at least Cato hoped they were. He had heard no reports about their progress during the morning as the rest of the army marched out of the camp and took up their positions. Only the beggage train escort remained, lining the palisade as they watched their comrades prepare for battle. Overhead the clear sky that had greeted them at dawn was starting to cloud over ominously and the air stirred in flukey breaths of wind. A large number of camp followers had climbed on to a nearby knoll overlooking the section of the river where the legions would cross. Some had taken food and wine to consume as they watched the fighting.