The first two days they marched through the lands of the Cornovii, a tribe that had sued for peace with the invaders shortly after the legions had landed. But it was only after Ostorius had driven the enemy back into the mountains that the people of the tribe had lived free of raids from their neighbours for the first time in generations. As a consequence the rolling hills were dotted with farms and the column passed herdsmen and traders travelling freely from settlement to settlement, unburdened by the dread of bands of marauders lurking in the forests that spread across the hills.
It was a vision of how the entire province might appear one day, Cato reflected as he rode at the head of his men through the lush green countryside sprinkled with the bright colours of wild flowers. There was a soft beauty to these lands that touched his soul. Quite different to the dramatic scenery of Italia, frequently disfigured by the huge agricultural estates where chain gangs of slaves toiled miserably from first light to last. He offered a prayer to Jupiter that Britannia be spared such excesses. If a lasting peace could be won, then he would bring Julia to see the island for herself and perhaps she too would feel its attraction. A moment later he sniffed with contempt for such easy idealism. He was surrendering to the serenity of the island’s summer. For much of the rest of the year it was wet and cold, and in the depths of winter the short days bathed the bare landscape with a thin light. Julia would hate it, just as Macro did, or claimed to.
They passed through the band of small turf forts and turrets manned by auxiliary detachments on the third day and advanced beyond the frontier of the Roman province. That night the tribune ordered that the men construct a marching camp ‘in the face of the enemy’, as the army termed the construction of a deeper ditch and higher ramparts topped with a palisade. The horses and mules were no longer hobbled and left to graze in roped-off enclosures outside the camp, but were brought in at dusk and herded into far smaller enclosures within the defences where they were safe from raids. The night watch was doubled in strength and the sentries were tense and alert as they surveyed the dark loom of the surrounding landscape cloaked by darkness.
Cato was aware that the mood of the men had shifted. The light humour of the first two days had faded and they had a more watchful, professional edge to them now. They all knew the broad purpose of the mission they had been sent to accomplish and the danger they might face. Caratacus had become something of a legend to his Roman opponents, as Cato could well understand. Rome had fought few men for so long and the Catuvellaunian king refused to capitulate, even after his kingdom had fallen years before. No defeat had swayed him from his fanatical devotion to the cause of defying Emperor Claudius. And now it seemed to the common soldiers that he possessed magical powers that had enabled him to walk free from his chains in the very heart of the Roman camp on the same day that he had been captured. No such man could be permitted to defy Rome for any longer. He must join the ranks of those who had tested her might and been found wanting, like Hannibal, Mithridates and Spartacus before him.
The following day Cato’s flank guard sighted a small party of horsemen tracking them just below the crest of the hills to their right. Decurion Miro pointed them out to his superior and it took Cato a moment before he spotted the distant movement amid the heather and gorse growing on the steep slope. There were five riders, wearing tunics, leggings and carrying spears. There was no glint of armour, nor any sign of shields.
‘Looks like a hunting party.’
‘Want me to send out a squadron after them, sir?’
Cato considered briefly and then shook his head. ‘No point. They’d outrun us easily enough. Besides, we’re not here to make war. If they are Cornovii, then they’re our allies. If they’re Brigantians the same applies, until we discover otherwise. Leave them be.’
Miro bowed his head but made no effort to conceal his misgivings. He turned his horse aside and trotted back to his men. Cato continued to watch the riders from time to time and noted that they kept pace with the convoy. They made no effort to come any closer or ride further off. If they were hunters, they had clearly abandoned their original intent in order to keep watch on the Romans. More than likely the instant they had caught sight of the column they had sent off some of their number to report its presence. Despite the existing treaty with the Cornovii and the Brigantian queen, Cato could not help feeling anxious about the route that lay ahead. Tribune Otho would be leading them far beyond the established frontier of the province. In the distance Cato could see a line of hills stretching from north to south. That, according to Vellocatus, marked the boundary of Cartimandua’s nation. It was possible that Caratacus had won them over to his cause already and they were even now mobilising a fresh army for him to lead against the Romans. If the column was ambushed in the hills, or the lands that lay beyond, there would be no hope of rescue.
Nor was the only danger from without, Cato reflected sourly. There was a good chance that someone in the column was planning to sabotage Tribune Otho’s mission to arrest Caratacus. But who? Cato turned his attention to the column trudging through the peaceful countryside: the infantry, labouring under the burden of their marching yokes, many with soiled strips of cloth tied around their heads to soak up the sweat; the cavalry leading their mounts, their kit hanging from the sturdy saddlehorns; and the wagons and carts rumbling over the dry track leading towards the line of hills rendered indistinct by the haze. Cato picked out the covered wagon of Septimus and saw the imperial agent sitting beside his slave on the driver’s bench, arms crossed, his body trembling from the vibrations of the vehicle as it passed over the uneven ground.
Septimus had mentioned his suspects but Cato had seen no clear evidence of treachery from any of them. Horatius seemed too much a soldier to be capable of conspiracy, and while there were hidden depths to Tribune Otho and his wife, there was no evidence to indicate they were involved in any treachery. Yet someone had aided the escape of Caratacus, and had been ruthless enough to murder two soldiers in the process. Such a person was a dangerous threat. Particularly if Septimus was right about their intention to eliminate Macro and himself as well. For a while Cato had been content to be back with the army with the clear-cut purpose of defeating the enemy. Since the arrival of the imperial agent with his news of Pallas’s plot, Cato had been forced to live in a state of heightened awareness. His restless mind was looking for any sign of treachery and it was difficult to sleep well. Even then, he had ensured that his sword was within easy reach and his dagger rested beside his bolster. Not that he was under any illusion that a resourceful enemy would not find a way to kill him if the chance presented itself. It was unlikely to happen in the routine course of events since such a murder would entail too much risk for minimal rewards. It was far more likely that Pallas’s man would wait until he could make their deaths look like an accident or, better still, he would use their deaths to further his wider cause, Cato calculated. Supposing he and Macro were killed during the negotiations with Cartimandua? If their deaths were blamed on the tribesmen, it would cause a rift between Rome and the Britgantes. There was one glimmer of hope in all this, Cato mused. Caratacus knew who the traitor was. If it was not already too late to negotiate a peaceful resolution, Cato would keep a close watch on the enemy fugitive and try to discover if he was in contact with someone in the Roman column. Once that happened, Cato would strike, without pity.
Late in the afternoon, just after Otho had given the order to halt and make camp, a larger party of horsemen appeared on the crest of a hill little more than a mile from the column. Cato was standing with Macro as the legionaries broke up the ground with their picks ready to commence constructing their allotted section of the defences. The alarm had been raised amongst the men of Centurion Acer’s cohort and now the rest turned to look, craning their necks to stare towards the hill. Cato calculated that there must be at least fifty in the party. This time it was immediately apparent that these were no hunters. The angled light from the sun gleamed on polished helmets and shield bosses. Cato turned towards the centre of the camp where the tribune was standing with Vellocatus and some of the other officers. Otho gazed towards the horsemen but made no effort to order the cornicen to call the men to arms. Instead he turned briefly to one of his orderlies and pointed in Cato’s direction. The man nodded and began to run over.