Cato scratched his earlobe casually. ‘Friend of yours?’
‘A cousin. Belmatus. Younger brother of Venutius.’
‘Ah, now I understand something of his pleasure in seeing you here.’ Cato nodded in the direction of the fiery native. ‘Better find out exactly what he wants.’
Vellocatus cleared his throat and addressed his relative. Cato had learned some of the tongue of the tribes further to the south but he could not follow the more guttural dialect of the two northerners. There was a sharp exchange before the translator turned back to Cato.
‘Besides some colourful insults directed at me, Belmatus demands to know why the Romans have ventured beyond the frontier of the lands they lay claim to.’
‘I see.’ Cato tilted his head slightly as a worrying thought struck him. ‘Do I take it that your queen has not yet informed her people that she has requested our assistance?’
Vellocatus shifted uncomfortably in his saddle before he replied. ‘I do not know, sir. I merely carried the message.’
‘I don’t believe you. Try again.’
The young nobleman lowered his gaze as he replied, ‘She said it would be better not to give too much warning of your approach.’
‘It seems that events have rather overtaken her intention.’ Cato nodded to the waiting native. ‘Word of our advance is going to reach Isurium a while before we arrive.’
Vellocatus shrugged. Before Cato could continue, they were interrupted by Belmatus who spoke quickly and harshly.
‘He demands an answer.’
‘Then we’d better tell him the truth.’
The translator shot Cato an anxious look. ‘I don’t think that’s wise.’
‘What choice have we got? If we don’t tell the truth then it looks like we’re invading Brigantian territory. Tell him we’re here at the request of his queen. She has asked to speak to a representative of the Roman governor.’ Cato lowered his voice. ‘Don’t mention anything about who we have come to arrest. They’ll guess our true purpose quickly enough, but let’s not give it to them on a plate. Tell him what I said.’
There was another exchange, more lengthy this time and more heated, before Belmatus gritted his teeth and thrust his arm out, pointing south, back the way the column had marched.
‘Let me guess,’ Cato said drily. ‘He demands that we turn back and return to the province.’
Vellocatus nodded. ‘He says that he has heard nothing about Cartimandua’s request. In any case, he takes his orders from his brother. If your column continues then the Brigantes will take it as a declaration of war.’
Cato stiffened. That changed the situation rather unpleasantly. This had gone beyond the scope of his authority. He must report back to Tribune Otho and allow him to consider matters before deciding how to proceed.
‘Hrrrmm.’ Cato cleared his throat. ‘Tell Belmatus that I will convey his message to my commander, and tell him that we mean no harm to his people. Remind him that we come here at the request of Queen Cartimandua, our ally. I advise him to confirm that with her before he carries out any action that his people might have cause to regret.’
Vellocatus spoke and there was a sharp retort from the other native that seemed to strike the translator like a blow. He turned to Cato and winced. ‘My cousin says that if your column takes another step in the direction of Isurium then he, and the warriors of his tribe, will cut you down and take your heads as trophies.’
The warrior had been watching Cato closely as his words were conveyed and now he smiled coldly and drew his finger slowly across his throat. Then he turned his horse round and spurred it back towards his men waiting on the crest of the hill. The sun was setting on the horizon and even though the evening was warm and close, Cato felt a cold shiver trace its way down his spine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘How could your queen possibly think it a good idea to conceal from your people the fact that she had asked for our assistance?’ Tribune Otho demanded.
Vellocatus took a moment to unpick the convoluted question before he replied. ‘As I explained to Legate Quintatus, her position is delicate. Our people are divided over our relations with Rome. Most want peace, but there are many who hate or fear you. They feel that they must join those that continue to fight against the invader. Or else Brigantia will be swallowed up like all the tribes to the south of our lands. My queen decided that it would be best not to let her court know that she had asked for your help. At least not until you were on the march.’
Otho rubbed his weary eyes as he digested the explanation. Around the table the other senior officers of his column sat in silence. Cato tucked a finger under the hem of his tunic and pulled the cloth away from his clammy skin. It was stifling in the tribune’s tent thanks to the fact that Otho had ordered the tent flaps to be closed to keep the insects out. Even so, a small swirling cloud of gnats and mosquitoes clustered around the flames of the oil lamps and with a muttered curse Macro raised a hand to swat away those that came too close to his face.
The tribune, however, was ignoring the nuisance. His attention was fixed on the young Brigantian nobleman. ‘Will your cousin really attack us if we attempt to continue our march tomorrow?’
‘If?’ Horatius interrupted. ‘Sir, we have orders to-’
‘I know my damn orders, thank you!’ Otho snapped. ‘And I am in command here. I make the decisions. I’ll thank you to remember that, Prefect Horatius.’
The sudden outburst was the first time Cato had seen the young tribune’s temper and he and the other officers sat still and waited for the moment to pass. Otho sucked in a calming breath and gestured to his translator. ‘So, will your cousin fight us?’
Vellocatus closed his eyes for a moment and frowned before he looked up and replied. ‘I don’t know. Belmatus is a hothead. Always has been. But he takes his lead from Venutius. He’s the one you should be concerned about. If he has given his brother the order to fight, then fight he will.’
‘But that would be foolish,’ Prefect Horatius interrupted. ‘He has no more than fifty men. If he attempts to stop us we’ll wipe him out.’
‘And that’s bound to be well received at the court of Queen Cartimandua,’ said Cato with heavy irony, so that Horatius could not miss the point. ‘Before her Roman allies have even reached Isurium they’ll have the blood of her people on their swords. I can imagine how that will play out. Venutius will lay the responsibility for their deaths at our door and say that this is proof of Rome’s intention to wage war on the Brigantes, and that his people have no choice but to join Caratacus’s struggle against us.’ He turned to the tribune. ‘Sir, we have to make sure that there is no bloodshed tomorrow, at least as far as we can help it.’
Otho rubbed his brow slowly. ‘Are you suggesting that if we are opposed then we should turn back?’
‘Not at all, sir. If we turn back Venutius will claim the credit for it and it will weaken the queen’s position.’
‘Either way, the situation at Isurium gets worse for us. We are damned if we do push on, and damned if we don’t.’
Cato repressed his irritation. He disliked this kind of categoric thinking. It forced all real possibilities of outcome into two channels and limited the scope for action as a result.
‘No, sir. I’m just pointing out that the decision isn’t between going on and turning back. Either of those will damage any support that we have amongst the Brigantes. Therefore neither is the best course of action.’
‘Then what is?’ Otho demanded in frustration.
‘We must continue our advance tomorrow,’ Cato said patiently. ‘Besides, as Horatius has pointed out, those are our orders — unless the legate has included a contingency against proceeding if we are opposed.’