‘Who are you and what do you want?’ Cato called down.
There was a pause before the rider replied in a deep voice that carried the length of the wall on each side of the gate. ‘I am King Caratacus, warlord of the free tribes of Britannia.’
Cato felt his blood chill. He leaned forward across the rail the better to make out the rider. In the torchlight the man’s face was clear enough to prove the truth of his words.
‘I have come to claim back what is mine,’ he continued clearly in fluent Latin. ‘You have my brother. I command you to give him up to me, if he still lives.’
Cato’s mind was racing with surprise and the implications for the wider campaign now that the enemy leader was before him. If Caratacus had word of his brother’s capture and rushed south to negotiate his release then the enemy army was without its commander. It presented a fine opportunity for Governor Ostorius to strike. The ladder creaked and a moment later Macro climbed on to the platform, breathing heavily from his exertions.
‘You heard?’ Cato asked him.
‘Yes. Bastard has a fine pair of lungs on him. Doubt there’s a man in the fort who doesn’t know he’s right on our doorstep.’ Macro glanced over the breastwork and shook his head admiringly. ‘Whatever else you say about him, the lad’s got balls.’
‘We should kill him. Now,’ Quertus growled. ‘Before the fool rides away.’
Macro sucked his teeth. ‘He’s right. Kill him.’
‘No,’ Cato replied decisively.
The enemy commander called up to them again. ‘I asked if you had my brother, Maridius. Centurion Quertus, speak up and answer me!’
Before the Thracian could respond, Cato leaned forward. ‘I am in command at Bruccium. Prefect of the Thracian Cohort.’
‘Prefect? What happened to that vile cur Quertus?’
Cato answered as loudly as he could, so that the garrison would hear him. ‘He serves me now.’
‘And who are you, Roman? What is your name?’
There seemed no advantage to be gained from not answering and Cato drew a deep breath. ‘Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato.’
‘Prefect Cato. .’ There was a brief pause. ‘Is my brother alive?’
‘He is.’
‘Good. Then I demand his release.’
‘Demand?’ Macro gave a light, dry laugh. ‘The cheeky sod. Tell him to fuck off, sir.’
‘Kill him,’ Quertus muttered. ‘Before it’s too late.’
Cato ignored them both. ‘Maridius is my prisoner. Why should I release him?’
Caratacus was silent for a moment. ‘Because, if you do not, then I shall take this fort, and I swear by all the gods of my tribe that I will kill you and every man you command. Just as you have killed my allies. Every man taken alive will be impaled on the ramparts of Bruccium, and your heads will line the road from here to Gobannium. . Release Maridius, and you have my word that I will spare the garrison, on the condition that you abandon the fort and march back to Glevum.’
‘He’s having a laugh,’ Macro said softly to Cato. ‘How is he going to take the fort? He’d need an army for the job.’
A cold sensation gripped Cato’s guts as he replied to his enemy. ‘I will not give up the fort, just as I will not give up Maridius, or any other prisoner.’
Caratacus sat silently in his saddle for a moment. ‘So be it.’
Then he twisted round and called down into the valley in his native tongue and the men with the torches ran forward.
Macro craned his head and strained his eyes. ‘What are they up to?’
‘They’re heading for the haystacks, I think.’
The warriors’ torches cast a red glow over the haystacks as the men approached, then the first of the torches arced brightly through the air before landing on a haystack. More torches were thrust into the other haystacks and flames licked up from each, spreading quickly until they blazed in the darkness, casting great pools of light across the surrounding landscape. And revealing the dense ranks of warriors stretching across the floor of the valley where they stood in silence, by the thousand.
‘By the gods. .’ the sentry muttered, staring out at the host.
Cato and the other officers said nothing as they grimly surveyed the enemy army. The earlier prospect of Ostorius taking advantage of the situation returned to mock Cato and he smiled bitterly at himself. The enemy commander had brought his enemy with him.
‘Romans!’ Caratacus called up to them. ‘You see? I have more than enough men to crush Bruccium several times over. And I will. Unless you surrender Maridius and the others and throw down your weapons. You have until first light to decide.’
He turned his horse and rode back down between the rows of decaying heads. Behind him, the garrison of the fort looked down at the silent horde of warriors, bathed in the blood-red glow of the burning haystacks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
After Caratacus had ridden away to rejoin his army, Cato watched the blazing haystacks for a while, and the army waiting beyond, but there was no sign of any preparation for an immediate assault. He gave the order for the garrison to stand down while Severus and his century took the first watch. The rest of the men were permitted to rest at the foot of the rampart in case they were needed at short notice.
Once the orders were given, the senior officers were summoned to headquarters. No one talked as they waited for the last of the officers to arrive. Macro had given orders to Decimus to fetch food and watered wine and settled himself on a bench to one side of the hall while Quertus and his officers sat opposite. Cato paced slowly up and down between them while he waited for Severus and his fellow centurion, Petillius. The two legionary officers had stationed their men along the front wall, which was most at risk. The Thracians were assigned to the remaining three walls, which were protected by the river and the crags leading down from the fort.
Decimus arrived with a small cauldron of barley and lamb stew, mess tins and spoons, together with two jugs and Samian ware cups for the officers. As he set them down, the two legionary centurions arrived and took their place at Macro’s side. Cato nodded to his servant.
‘Serve the food, then draw some kit from stores and join Severus’s century on the wall.’
Once Decimus had completed his duties and left, Cato began to address his officers as they supped on their stew. ‘Enjoy it. I expect there will be little chance for a regular meal for the next few days. By now you will all be aware of the situation. It seems that we have discovered the whereabouts of the army that Governor Ostorius has been trying to pin down for the last two years. Whether we live long enough to report that fact to him is another matter.’ Cato paused, but there was no reaction to his attempt to lighten the sombre mood. He took a weary breath and continued to address his officers. ‘Caratacus has demanded that we surrender the fort and hand over our prisoners. Of course, there is only one of them that really matters to him, his brother Maridius. If we concede then he gives us his word that we will be allowed to march back to Glevum unharmed.’
‘His word?’ Quertus interrupted. ‘That’s worth nothing. He’s just like the rest of the savages who live in these mountains. He does not know the meaning of honour. We can’t trust him.’
Cato nodded. ‘And even if we could, I doubt very much whether the word of Caratacus would be enough to sway the hearts of the Silurians who follow him. After all the fine work that you have been doing in the valleys that surround Bruccium, they will be thirsting for revenge on you, your men, and the rest of us here in the fort. Whatever their commander says, they will not be satisfied unless every last Roman soldier is dead.’
‘What goes round, comes round,’ said Macro. He raised his cup to Quertus. ‘A fine mess you’ve dropped us into, my friend.’
The Thracian scowled and one of his officers made to stand, his hand reaching for his sword until Quertus swept out an arm and thrust him back on to the bench. There was a brief, tense silence before Centurion Severus spoke up.