The Eagle and the Wolves

'Not for warriors!' Artax spat back.

'This isn't about warriors. This is about all of our people. Do you think for a moment that the legions will stop to discriminate between the people they butcher? Do you?' Verica shook him. 'Well?'

'No…'Artax admitted.

'Then we have no choice… You have no choice.'

'Me?' Artax looked at his king closely. 'What do you mean, sire?'

'If I die, for whatever reason, in the near future, it is my wish that you will become king. I call these others to bear witness to my wish… Now do you see why you must carry out General Plautius' order?'

Every face turned towards the king in astonishment. Then Cato looked round the men gathered by the dying fire. Tincommius was shocked and clearly fighting back some kind of emotion. Tribune Quintillus was surprised and then smiled contentedly. Verica simply looked relieved to have unburdened himself of this decision. Macro looked angry.

'Me?' Artax shook his head in bewilderment. 'Why me?'

'Yes,' Tincommius said quietly. 'Why him, Uncle? Why not me? You have no son, and I am your brother's son. Why not me?'

'Tincommius, since you left your father you have been as a son to me. A much-loved son. But you are too young, too inexperienced, and I fear that there are some of our nobles who would twist your thoughts, and turn you against Rome. I would that you were older, and more resilient to such conniving spirits. Also, like me, you have only recently returned from exile, and are something of an unknown quantity to those men that matter in our kingdom. Artax is known and respected by all. Others look up to him, especially those who fear or hate Rome. He is a man of honour and I have no doubt about his loyalty. I'm sorry. I've made my decision and there's no more to be said.'

Tincommius' face twisted into an expression of pained bitterness as the king turned back to Artax. 'Of course, my choice will have to be agreed by the council, but I doubt there will be any opposition. When you become king, Artax, you will see things as clearly as I have come to see them. Then you will know what has to be done.'

Artax nodded slowly. There was a long silence around the fire. Then, as Cato watched him, a smile flickered at the corners of Artax's mouth. 'Of course, my lord. I am truly honoured by your decision, and I see now what must be done.'

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Twenty-Four

The weather changed the next day. A slow drizzle began just before dawn and the king's kitchen slaves struggled to get a decent fire going to cook a light morning meal. Verica and his hunting party gathered round a fire that continually hissed from the raindrops spattering down. There was no hint of orange in the dawn, only a dirty pale yellow away to the east. As the pallid light strengthened the sky became an unbroken grey.

'Great day for it,' grumbled Macro as he tightened the straps on his leather leggings.

Cato squinted up into fine spray. 'Might clear up later.'

'Pigs might fly.'

'Let's hope not,' smiled Cato. 'I think I'm going to have enough of a problem with ground-based boar.'

Cato was already dressed for the hunt, and leaning on the shaft of a long hunting spear. Unlike the legionary javelin, this weapon was broad-bladed, with vicious barbs that could only be dislodged by tearing away huge chunks of flesh. Although the spear could be thrown, the heavy shaft meant that this could be done at only very short range. Too short for Cato's liking.

'Ever hunted boar before?' Macro asked with a sinking feeling.

'I got as close to a boar as I ever want to be the other night.'

Macro grunted.

'Mind you,' Cato continued. 'I've seen them hunted in the arena.'

'That's not quite the same thing,' Macro said gently.

'Ugly brutes.'

'Yes. Ugly and bloody dangerous. If you find yourself on the ground facing one, watch those tusks. I've seen 'em carve a man up really nicely. Didn't kill him straight off. His wounds got infected with some poison they carry on the tusks. Must have been agony. He died screaming a few days later…'

'Thanks for that. Feel so much happier now.'

'You'll be all right,' Macro laughed, slapping his companion on the shoulder. 'Just stick close to me and watch your back.'

'Someone else could use that advice,' Cato muttered, nodding at the king and his nobles gathered about the fire and toasting each other with beer. Artax was standing close by the side of his king. Cato noticed that he was not drinking like the others, but seemed distracted. As well he might, Cato reflected. Verica was old. In months, maybe even weeks, Artax would be ruler of the Atrebatans. That kind of prospect was likely to turn a man's mind from the here and now. It was vexing Cato almost as much. Would King Artax be every bit as fiercely proud and prickly as Artax the young nobleman? If so, what hope was there for good relations between the Atrebatans and Rome? But maybe Verica was right. The old king was shrewd enough to see that the Atrebatans needed a ruler who would offend the least number of people and in that respect Artax was indeed a wise choice. But would he be wise enough in turn to see where the only possible destiny of his people lay?

'Verica's safe enough,' said Macro, 'now that he's got Artax onside.'

'Yes. I suppose. But I still don't trust him. He's up to something.'

'You're jumping at shadows.'

'Shadows don't kill people.'

'No.' Macro raised his head to the sky and squinted round. 'Come on then. Doesn't look like it's going to get any warmer or drier.'

They just had time to grab a hunk of cold mutton and a small loaf of bread when Cadminius sounded his horn to summon everyone to the hunt. Mouths full, and chewing frantically Cato and Macro stuffed the remains of their barely started meal into their haversacks and hurried over to the horseline. The hunting party heaved themselves on to the backs of their ponies and made themselves comfortable before reaching for the spears their slaves held ready for them. Verica was helped on to his mount, and Artax roughly pushed aside a slave to make sure that it was he who helped his king into the saddle. Verica looked down and smiled warmly, before reaching over to pat Artax on the shoulder.

'Touching, isn't it?' Macro muttered. 'Nothing quite like having someone throw a kingdom your way to improve your manners.'

Tincommius urged his horse over towards the two centurions.

'Good morning!' Cato called out to him.

'Good? Is it good?' Tincommius replied sourly.

'Boy's got a pine cone up his arse,' Macro whispered before Tincommius came within earshot. The Briton pulled the reins and drew his horse up beside the two Romans. Macro smiled at him.

'Cheer up, old son. Just as long as it doesn't really piss down we should be in for a good hunt. That forest is teeming with boar, if Artax is to be believed.'

'Artax… Oh, I'm sure he's right.'

Macro and Cato exchanged looks, before Macro continued in a hearty tone, 'I take it you aren't best pleased with Verica's choice of successor?'

Tincommius turned towards them, cold resentment on his face. 'No. Are you?'

'Provided he does good by Rome, he'll do well enough for me.'

'And you, Cato – what do you think?'

'I don't know. I just hope Verica lives for a while yet. Just to keep things settled.'

'Settled?' Tincommius laughed softly. 'Is that what you call it? Nothing's settled. Not while we're waiting for the old man to die. Everyone's thinking about what happens next. Do you really think Artax can hold the kingdom together?'

Cato watched him closely as he replied. 'Do you think someone else could do a better job?'