They parted and Cato turned and began to run back towards the heart of the camp. He was in sight of the headquarters tents when he heard the thin notes of the horn sounding from behind him. He saw soldiers in the darkness pause from their efforts to salvage their tents and look round.
‘What’s going on?’ a voice called out. ‘Thought we’d seen to the enemy. What’s that joker playing at?’
Cato stopped and cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted, ‘Stand to! You heard the signal! Move your bloody arses!’
The spell was broken and men began to scramble for their kit. Optios and centurions relayed the order, straining to be heard above the storm. Cato plunged on, half running, half slithering over the mud as he made for headquarters. Miraculously, only the mess tent had gone, the rest still struggled against the wind and he slithered to a halt outside the entrance to the general’s private quarters, gasping for breath.
‘Let. . me in.’ He waved the guards aside.
‘Just a moment, sir.’ One made to block his path.
‘There’s no. . time for this.’ Cato thrust the man aside and pushed through the flaps. The glow from the oil lamps and the braziers seemed brilliant after the darkness outside and Cato looked round frantically as the only servant still awake started in alarm from cleaning his master’s boots.
‘Is the general here?’ Cato demanded.
One of the guards entered the tent and hurried round Cato, hand moving to his sword. ‘Sir! You’ll have to wait outside!’
‘Where is the general?’ Cato repeated.
The curtain at the far end parted and Ostorius appeared in his tunic, barefoot. ‘What in Jupiter’s name is going on? Prefect Cato. What are you doing here?’ He paused and cocked his head. ‘Who gave the order to stand to?’
Cato thrust his way past the guard and stood stiffly in front of his commander, heart pounding inside his heaving chest.
‘Caratacus has escaped, sir.’
Ostorius stared at him, stunned into momentary silence. ‘Escaped? How is that possible? You had the man in chains.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then how could it happen?’
Cato swiftly collected his thoughts. ‘He must have been helped, sir. The two men guarding him were killed and the pins of his chains were knocked out.’
‘Helped? Who by?’
‘I cannot say, sir. Not yet. But as soon as I discovered he was gone I sounded the alarm. My men are searching for him, and I’ve given orders that no one is to leave the camp. If he’s still here, then we’ll find the enemy commander, sir.’
Ostorius took the information in and his expression became severe. ‘He had better be found, Prefect Cato. By the gods, he had better be found and put back in chains. If he has made good his escape then I swear those responsible will pay for this.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Cato responded helplessly.
The general turned to the guard. ‘Send for my staff officers at once!’
The guard saluted and hurried from the tent. Ostorius’s servant was still sitting on his stool, a boot in his hands. The general’s glare turned on him. ‘What are you waiting for? Get on with it!’
The servant began to scrub furiously, head down and hunched over his work. At that moment Cato would have willingly swapped places with the man. As it was, he stood still while Ostorius turned back, glowering.
‘You’d better get on with your search for Caratacus, Prefect. Get out!’
Cato saluted and turned to hurry from the tent, grateful to quit the general’s presence.
Once the general had briefed his officers, two cohorts were detailed to assist the escort detachment in the hunt for the escaped prisoner. The rest of the men were stood down and returned to whatever shelter they could find to see out the rest of the night. Cato returned to his headquarters to wait impatiently for reports to come in.
At last the storm began to abate and then pass on to the east, the wind easing as the storm drew the clouds in its wake. At last the rain stopped and the serene stars looked down from velvet heavens. As he stood at the entrance of his tent and stared up at the night sky, its very calmness seemed to mock Cato. His moment of triumph had lasted less than a day. The escape would no doubt transform him from the toast of the legion to scapegoat for this misfortune. Far from being the officer renowned for his capture of an enemy general, he would be doomed to be remembered for failing to prevent his flight. The real culprit was the man who had murdered the guards and set the enemy commander free. Cato swore that if he ever discovered the identity of that individual, he would be made to suffer. His only hope at this stage was that the culprit who had helped Caratacus was hiding him somewhere in the camp. The possibility that the enemy commander had found a way out was too painful for Cato to contemplate.
As the reports came in from the search parties, Cato felt his heart grow heavier at the lack of any sign of Caratacus.
As the first hint of dawn bled across the horizon, Macro brought him disturbing news.
‘I’ve been questioning the guards on the gates. They’ve done as you ordered and let no one out. But then I had a thought. I asked them who had passed through the gates in the hours before the alarm was raised.’
‘And?’
‘You’re not going to like this, there was nothing that stood out — the usual comings and goings of patrols. Except for a wine merchant’s cart.’
Cato pressed his hand to his forehead. ‘A cart. Did the sentries search it?’
‘They gave it a quick look and it was empty. The driver’s face was hidden by a cloak. Since it was raining, the duty optio didn’t think it was unusual. The driver said he was returning to Viroconium to buy more stock since there was no more danger from the enemy. The optio passed him through.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Just before they closed the gate for the night. That was when we were in the mess tent. I’ve got the optio outside if you want a word with him.’
‘Get him in here.’
Macro ducked his head through the flaps. ‘Inside, you.’
He stood aside to let the optio enter. He was a seasoned-looking soldier but his uneasiness and dull expression did not create a good impression. To Cato he looked like the kind of soldier who was good enough to make optio but lacked those qualities that were essential for promotion to centurion. He stood to attention.
‘Optio Domatus reporting, sir.’
‘Centurion Macro informs me that you passed a cart out of the camp before you closed the gate last night.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A wine merchant, making for Viroconium.’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘And you didn’t think it unusual for a wine merchant to be leaving the camp at that hour?’
The optio shifted uneasily. ‘He sounded convincing enough to me, sir. Anyway, we’re supposed to be keeping watch on threats coming from outside the camp, sir. He was leaving. Didn’t see any harm in letting him pass.’
‘Optio, the sentries on watch duty are looking out for the enemy. Your job is to carefully monitor who comes in or goes out.’
‘As I said, sir. I didn’t see no reason to be suspicious of the man. He gave me no cause to suspect he was an enemy. Let alone Caratacus himself, sir. Besides, he spoke Latin.’
Cato sighed. ‘Did it not occur to you that at least one of the enemy might know our tongue?’
The optio opened his mouth to protest but had the sense to say nothing and clamped his lips together.
‘Do you think it’s him?’ Macro intervened.
‘It’s possible. I’ll send a patrol after him once we’re done here. Just in case.’ Cato turned his attention back to the optio. ‘Domatus, is there anything else you can tell us about this wine merchant? Any description of the man?’
‘As I told the centurion, sir, he had his hood over his head. Couldn’t see much in the dark, and what with the rain and wind and all.’
‘I see.’ Cato sighed wearily. He was about to dismiss the man when the optio’s expression lit up.
‘I did get his name, sir. It was branded on to the side of the cart. I could just make it out as he passed through the gate.’