The Blood Crows c-12 Read online

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Macro bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘But what if the other side doesn’t abide by the arrangement? What are the rules of engagement?’

  ‘None of our weapons are to be drawn except in self-defence, and only then if they draw theirs first,’ Ostorius said firmly, staring round at all his officers. The Iceni had already occupied the barracks allotted to them and only a handful stood outside, looking on in silence as the governor addressed his men. ‘If it should become necessary for us to fight then you will await my order before acting. The gods help any man who fails to obey my orders on this.’

  He let his threat sink in before speaking again in a more moderate tone. ‘All parties should have arrived by now. My translator, Marcommius, will ride on and confirm that is the case. If so, then the first meeting should take place tonight. As the site is sacred to the natives, we will wait here for word that they are ready for us to attend. After that, we are in the hands of the gods, gentlemen.’

  Macro leaned closer to Cato and whispered, ‘Yes, but whose gods, ours or theirs?’

  ‘Until then,’ Ostorius continued, ‘I suggest you get some rest. You will need your wits about you tonight. Dismissed.’

  While Ostorius strode towards the optio’s quarters the tribunes and bodyguards moved away towards the entrance to their barrack block.

  ‘Coming?’ Macro asked. ‘One of the bodyguards has a decent jar of wine. I said I’d play dice for it. Want to join me?’

  Cato was torn. It would be a pleasant diversion to while away a few hours with Macro and the others, but at the same time he was a prefect, a difference in rank that neither he, nor the legionaries of the governor’s bodyguard, could overlook, even off duty. He shook his head. ‘I need a little time to think.’

  Macro smiled. ‘You’re missing your woman again.’

  ‘I miss her all the time, Macro. I suspect I will for a while yet.’

  ‘You’ll have plenty to distract you soon enough.’ Macro punched him lightly on the shoulder and turned away to make for the door to the barracks. Once his friend had disappeared within, Cato climbed the outpost’s watchtower and gazed west to where the sun dipped towards the rolling horizon. A few miles away, in that direction, lay the sacred stone rings, and close by, the encampments of those who had travelled from their tribal homelands. In amongst them, some Druids. Cato felt a shiver ripple down his spine as he recalled the Druids of the Dark Moon. He and Macro had fought against them the last time they were in Britannia. Fearsome and fanatic, there was no extreme of cruelty they did not embrace in the war against Rome. If they had chosen to join the meeting of the tribes then Cato was certain that they would be tireless in urging the others to destroy the legions, even those tribes who were presently allied to Rome. That was the real danger of the coming days, the possibility that Ostorius’s bid for a peaceful settlement might end in a general uprising against the outnumbered and hard-pressed legionaries and auxiliaries of the army in Britannia. Most dangerous of all was the outside chance that Caratacus himself would appear before the tribes and talk them into joining him in the war against the invader. He shivered.

  ‘Cold?’

  Cato turned quickly and saw Boudica smiling at him from the top of the ladder. ‘A bit. It’s been a long day and I’m tired.’

  Boudica continued up the last two steps and entered the watchtower, by which time Cato was in command of his nerves once more. She made her way to his side and followed the direction he had been looking at a moment earlier.

  ‘It’s going to be longer still, I think,’ she said. ‘And more tiring. I think Governor Ostorius is making a mistake. He should never have agreed to this. There are no promises he can make that will satisfy those tribes who are hostile to Rome, and certainly no promises which his masters in Rome will be willing to keep.’

  Cato feared that she was right, but he did not doubt the sincerity of the governor’s efforts to avoid further bloodshed. ‘That may be so.’

  ‘Then why are we here?’

  Cato glanced round to make sure that his words would not be overheard. ‘Because Ostorius is an old and sick man, worn out by the burdens of his office. What he wants more than anything is to go home to his family and enjoy the last measure of his life in peace and comfort. He may not survive another campaign season. I fear this place has broken him.’

  ‘Then he should leave. And take his legions with him.’

  Cato was surprised by the vehemence in her tone. There had been a more cordial atmosphere between the Iceni and the Romans over the last two days. ‘You know that cannot happen.’

  ‘Then we must all live with the consequences,’ she responded quietly, then forced herself to smile. ‘But enough of that. Old friends, old comrades, must put such thoughts aside. We have shared dangers, and pleasures, and that is a bond that is not lightly broken. Tell me, does Macro still resent my taking Prasutagus for my husband all those years ago? I tried to tell him at the time that I had little choice in the matter.’

  ‘Macro is Macro. It is not in him to bear those sorts of grudges. He had a strong affection for you, certainly, but you pledged yourself to another man and he felt a passing sorrow and anger, and then put the matter behind him. That is how he chooses to live. So I doubt he harbours any ill will towards you, or Prasutagus.’

  ‘I wish I could be so philosophical.’

  Cato chuckled. ‘I doubt it’s a question of philosophy as far as Macro’s concerned. If you really want to rub him up the wrong way, then call him a philosopher to his face.’

  Boudica laughed briefly, then grew reflective. ‘Still, I would like to think that his fondness for me was not cast aside quite so readily as you imply.’

  Cato detected the regret in her voice and with a stab of guilt realised that he had never considered the prospect that his friend might inspire such feelings in Boudica. Macro was as fine a soldier as ever lived, and as loyal a friend. But he possessed few other qualities that Cato could imagine being of any attraction to a woman who did not earn her living on her back. He winced at the ignoble thought. Macro was his closest friend. He felt as close to him as a brother, or son.

  A flare of light drew his attention towards a low ridge on the horizon where the molten glow of the sun was brilliant against a clear sky.

  ‘Quite beautiful,’ Boudica muttered.

  ‘It is.’ He nodded, but his mind was still working. The basis of a close friendship was impossible to define. And the same was true of love, it seemed. There was in Macro some ineffable quality that appealed to Boudica. Perhaps it was true of every person; they all possessed some quality of character that called out to its mate in another being. .

  ‘Look!’ Boudica raised her hand and pointed to the west.

  Cato thrust his introspection aside and saw a bright flicker in the gloom not far from the ridge behind which the sun had set. Then another appeared, and more until the wavering flames seemed to form a shallow ellipse, with a line leading off to the side. The fires had been seen by one of the garrison’s sentries and he sounded the alarm, clattering the point of his javelin against a small bronze cauldron hanging beside the outpost’s gate. A moment later the optio roused himself and bellowed at his soldiers to man the palisade. The door to the nearest barracks crashed open as Macro raced outside, crested helmet in one hand and mail armour hanging over his other arm. Behind him came the rest of the Romans, the last of them making way for Ostorius, just as Prasutagus and his warriors burst out of their quarters and scrambled up the turf inner wall and on to the boarded walk behind the sharpened stakes of the palisade. The sentry continued sounding the alarm a moment longer before Macro shouted to him.

  ‘Shut that fucking racket up!’

  As the last tuneless note died away, Macro lowered his helmet and struggled into his chain-mail vest. ‘Make your report, man! What did you see?’

  Before the sentry could reply, Cato drew a breath and called from the watchtower, ‘Fires to the west!’

  As the last of the me
n lined the palisade, Ostorius struggled on to the walkway, breathing heavily. The fires, scores of them now, were well enough established to be clearly visible and there was a hush before one of the junior tribunes spoke up. ‘What is that? It looks like an army on the move.’

  Ostorius coughed to clear his throat. ‘That’s Avibarius, I imagine.’

  ‘Aye, Roman,’ said Prasutagus, his deep voice carrying clearly. ‘It is.’ He glanced up to the watchtower and frowned as he caught sight of his wife. A moment later the structure swayed slightly as the giant Iceni warrior climbed the ladder and then squeezed on to the platform alongside Cato and Boudica. There was a terse exchange in the Iceni tongue before Prasutagus eased himself between his wife and the prefect and stared towards the distant fires.

  ‘The fires mark the boundary of sacred stones. As the sun dies, the fire gives light to the world. When priests give the order.’

  ‘Priests?’ Cato took in a sharp breath. ‘You mean Druids.’

  Prasutagus nodded.

  Cato unconsciously raised his hand to touch his chest where a Druid had wounded him seven years before. There was only a scar there now, but suddenly he felt a chill on the flesh beneath the cloth of his tunic. ‘What does it mean, Prasutagus?’

  ‘They prepare the ground for the meeting. There are rituals they must perform, and sacrifices. To appease spirits and please our gods.’

  ‘What kind of sacrifices?’ Cato asked quietly but Prasutagus did not reply. He strained his eyes to try and make out more detail. At length he continued in his broken Latin.

  ‘They send for us soon.’

  ‘Already?’

  The Iceni king shrugged. ‘Why not? You have something else to do?’ He glanced meaningfully at his wife.

  Boudica scowled. ‘We were talking about the last time we were together. The four of us, my King.’

  ‘That was long time ago. Long time. Much has changed. You are my wife and Queen of the Iceni.’

  ‘And what of friendship?’ Cato asked. ‘Has that changed?’

  ‘Is a man a friend if he takes and takes, until he leaves nothing?’

  Cato smiled. ‘You are talking about Rome. What about Macro and me? What have we ever taken from you? Why should we not be friends, as we once were?’

  Prasutagus raised his eyebrows in surprise as he answered. ‘Because you are Romans.’

  ‘There’s some movement over there!’ the junior tribune who had spoken earlier piped up. ‘Horseman approaching.’

  ‘Thank you, Tribune Decianus,’ the governor replied tersely. ‘I may be getting old, but I’m not blind.’

  The outpost commander turned to him. ‘What are your orders, sir?’

  ‘Have your men stand to along the palisade. Let’s look smart and alert, eh? The kind of soldiers who will never be taken by surprise.’

  The optio smiled. ‘Yes, sir.’

  The governor turned to look up at Prasutagus. ‘It might be a good idea if you and your retinue stayed out of sight, rather than looking as if you are here under my protection.’

  Prasutagus gritted his teeth and growled, ‘The Iceni need no protection.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Ostorius replied soothingly. ‘It’s just a question of form. Best not have any of your peers jumping to conclusions.’

  Prasutagus hesitated a moment, then issued an order to his warriors and swung himself on to the ladder and began to descend from the tower. After a brief apologetic look, Boudica followed him. The tribesmen scrambled down to the base of the turf rampart and out of view of the horseman approaching the outpost. The soft thud of hoofs carried to the ears of those standing on the walkway and then the pace of the rider slowed. There was a tense silence as he made his way close enough to the outpost to address those within. Then the dim shadow stopped, fifty feet from the ditch, and a voice called out to them in a native tongue.

  ‘Where’s my damned interpreter?’ Ostorius demanded in a low voice. ‘Marcommius, on me, damn you. Quickly!’

  The interpreter thrust his way past the tribunes to join the governor.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He asks for you, sir.’

  ‘Ask him how he knows that I am here?’

  There was a brief exchange before Marcommius relayed the words. ‘He says that we have been watched closely since we passed through Calleva, sir. Us and the Iceni contingent. The others have been waiting for us to arrive before the ceremonies began, sir. Now he asks us, and King Prasutagus, to follow him to the sacred rings.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Ostorius demanded. ‘What is the fellow’s name?’

  Cato had a better view from the watchtower and could easily make out the dark robes and wild flowing hair of the rider. He already knew the answer even before the translator could reply to the governor.

  ‘He’s a Druid, sir. And he says his name is known only to his followers, as is their custom. And he, uh, requests that you bring your men and follow him now.’

  ‘Requests? I suspect that he put it more forcefully than that. I need you to interpret as accurately as possible. Tell me the precise words he used and let me deal with the nuances.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then tell him we will come at once.’ Ostorius turned to his officers. ‘Don’t forget what I said. No man does, or says, anything without my express order.’

  ‘What if anything happens to you, sir?’ asked Tribune Decianus.

  ‘In that event, I think you can rely on instinct.’ Ostorius smiled wryly. ‘The line of command is clear. If I fall, Prefect Cato will be the senior officer present. Look to him.’

  Several of the men glanced up at Cato who was climbing down from the watchtower. Although he understood his duty well enough, the prospect of being thrust into command in what could only be a desperate situation caused him some anxiety.

  The horses, used to the routine of being unsaddled at the end of the day and given their feed, whinnied and snorted in protest as their saddlecloths were replaced and then the heavy saddles and the rest of their tackle. Decimus saw to the mules, relieved that he would not have to ride out with his two masters. Night had fallen by the time the gates of the outpost opened and Ostorius led the column out to meet their Druid escort. The latter had not moved and now waited until Ostorius reined in a short distance from him. There was a pause, then the Druid clicked his tongue and walked his horse forward. Cato and Macro sat in their saddles a short distance behind the governor and his interpreter and could just make out the features of the Druid as he stared haughtily at Ostorius. Up close he appeared even more wild, and unworldly with his unkempt hair and dark robes.

  ‘If he thinks that staring routine is going to scare me, then he’d better think again,’ Macro said under his breath. ‘If it weren’t for orders, I’d have the bastard.’

  ‘Early days, Macro,’ Cato whispered. ‘If I’m any judge of the situation, you’ll get your chance.’

  The Druid turned his attention from the governor and slowly rode down the column. Ostorius stared fixedly ahead, not willing to let the Druid’s scrutiny unsettle him. As the latter passed beside Macro and Cato, Macro gave a broad wink and the Druid growled what sounded like a curse back at the Roman officer. He continued, passing the tribunes who were taking a lead from their commander and striving not to look anxious. Then the Druid stopped in front of Prasutagus and his retinue. There was a long silence and the Druid sniffed the air, before his nose wrinkled with distaste and he spat on the ground in front of the Iceni King. Then he spoke.

  ‘What did he say?’ Ostorius asked calmly.

  ‘He said that the Iceni have been spending too long in the company of Romans. They are, ah, beginning to stink like Romans.’

  Macro chuckled softly. ‘That’s rich. Coming from a bog-hopping, hairy-arsed barbarian.’

  Cato glanced at him. ‘Shhh. .’

  With a sudden, harsh cry the Druid wheeled his shaggy mount round and rode back to the head of the column. He gestured to Ostorius to follow him as he trotted awa
y from the outpost towards the distant fires. The night air was filled with the thud of hoofs and the chink of the bits of the horses and the armour of the riders.

  ‘He’s going too fast,’ Tribune Decianus complained. ‘It’s madness in this darkness.’

  ‘If he can do it, then so must we,’ Cato called back to him.

  Soon the grass beneath gave way to the packed earth of a track and Cato realised they must have rejoined the route from Calleva, and his concern for the safety of their horses abated a little.

  Ahead of them the track passed through a small wood before climbing to the crest of a low ridge. The Druid, more familiar with the track, had stopped to let them catch up and as Cato’s mount slowed and crested the rise, he saw the sacred stones of Avibarius in the shallow vale below him. The spectacle caught his breath. An avenue of fires, half a mile long and some fifty feet wide, stretched across a levelled strip of ground. On either side he could make out the pillars of stone, lit a lurid red by the fires spaced between them. At the end of the avenue was a ring of earth, within which stood yet more stones, and more fires blazed from the top of the earth embankment. An open gateway stood at the point where the avenue pierced the earthworks and on the opposite side of the ring stood two monumental obelisks with a slab laid across their tops. Before it lay a large stone altar, barely visible even by the light of the flames, due to the blood that had stained it across uncounted years. A steady stream of figures was making its way down the avenue towards the gateway. The Druid gestured towards the near end of the avenue where hundreds of people and horses milled in an open area and urged his mount on.

  They rode down a gentle slope and soon reached the throng, which instantly drew aside at the sight of the Druid, and those that followed him. As they made their way through the natives, Cato was aware of hundreds of eyes watching them pass. But there was no shout of greeting, or any cries of hostility hurled at the Roman governor and his retinue, just a silence that surrounded them as they rode towards the start of the avenue. There the Druid halted and slipped down from the back of his horse. Several boys darted forward to take the reins of the new arrivals and once the Roman governor and the others were ready, the Druid waved them on with a curt word of command and entered the avenue.