Caratacus this time round. So yes, I’m an optimist. But before that, I’m a realist. And I’d say anyone who really thinks this is going to be just a stroll in the forum is in for a great big fucking surprise. Pardon, madam.’
Portia sighed with exasperation and waved the apology aside. Then she froze and looked towards the doorway of the inn. Cato turned to follow the direction of her gaze and saw that two large warriors had entered the room. They wore heavy capes woven with a checked design in brown and white. Their hair was tied back and braided in a thick queue that hung down their backs. Swirling tattoos covered their hairy arms and long swords hung from baldrics. The native warriors slowly shuffled inside, followed by several more of their companions, including one huge man who had to bow his head to avoid the beams that stretched across the interior. At his side was a woman, her head covered with the hood of a cloak. The serving girl took one look at the giant and hurried through a doorway behind the counter, calling for her master.
As the newcomers made their way to the counter, the leader of the party looked round the room until his gaze rested on the small party of Romans. His expression was fierce, but then a look of puzzlement worked its way through as he stared directly at Macro and Cato.
‘I don’t fucking believe it. .’ Macro grasped Cato’s arm. ‘Look who it is! Recognise him?’
‘Of course,’ Cato replied quietly. ‘Prasutagus.’
There was a scraping as Macro rose from his bench and called across the room. ‘Prasutagus! It’s me. I mean us. Macro and Cato!’
Decianus nearly choked on his wine. ‘You mean you know that brute?’
Macro ignored the tribune and took two steps towards the native leader and held out his hand. Prasutagus stood still for a moment before he smiled faintly and nodded without offering his hand in return. Macro lowered his and shook his head in wonder. ‘I don’t believe it. . Prasutagus.’
‘Hello, Centurion,’ a woman’s voice interrupted the startled silence of the inn. Macro turned and saw that the woman had lowered the hood of her cloak to reveal thick tresses of coppery red hair. Her eyes twinkled as she smiled a greeting.
The power of speech failed Macro for an instant before he swallowed nervously and cleared his throat. ‘Boudica. .’
CHAPTER SIX
‘Queen Boudica, as it happens.’ She affected an aloofness that was betrayed by the smile that she could not suppress.
‘Queen?’ Macro frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I am the wife of Prasutagus, and so queen of the Iceni nation. I assume that you, too, have risen in status since we last saw each other. No longer the centurion we once knew.’
Macro shook his head. ‘Centurion Macro still, though I am more senior than I was.’
Boudica stepped away from the bar and made for the side of her husband and took his hand. ‘We are pleased to see you again.’
The two Roman officers exchanged looks with the rulers of the Iceni tribe, and for a moment no one spoke as memories of shared hardships and dangers flooded back into their minds. Macro felt a deeper pang of loss as he gazed at the woman whose affections he had once known, when Boudica had been no more than the wayward daughter of an Iceni nobleman. At length Prasutagus could maintain his regal aloofness no longer and let out a hearty bellow of mirth, before surging forward and throwing his arms round Macro in a rib-cracking embrace of friendship.
‘Hah! It is good to see you again, Roman! Too many years have passed.’
Macro clasped the giant’s arms and eased himself free of the powerful grip. He took a deep breath before he responded. ‘I see you’ve picked up a bit more Latin since last time.’
‘It is well to speak the tongue of your friend,’ Prasutagus responded, his accent heavy but his words readily comprehensible. He turned to Cato and grasped his hand and smiled warmly. ‘And you, Cato. Still as cunning and brave, I think.’ He tapped the scar that ran down from Cato’s forehead. ‘The mark of a warrior, eh?’
‘The mark of a man who did not get out of the way of a blade in time, more like,’ Cato replied with a smile.
His wife approached and looked Cato over with a slight expression of concern. ‘You were little more than a youth when last we met. Now you look more like Macro did then.’
‘What?’ Macro interrupted. ‘Then what do I look like now?’
Boudica scrutinised him. ‘Your face is more lined, and there is grey in your hair, but you are still the same Macro I knew. Which is as well. It is good to see an old friend. .’ Her tone became more serious. ‘Friendship is needed now more than ever. Relations between Rome and the Iceni are fragile. I take it you are aware of our recent history?’
‘We heard about the rebellion,’ said Cato. ‘It is a pity.’
‘Pity?’ Prasutagus’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘It was a tragedy. A betrayal of the bond between our people and Rome. Ostorius demanded we surrender weapons, even after I gave my word of honour that we hold true to our alliance with the Emperor. Some gave up weapons. Others did not and died with sword in hand.’ Prasutagus lowered his gaze. ‘They were fools, but brave fools. Perhaps. .’
‘You did the right thing.’ Boudica squeezed his hand. ‘You survived and now you serve the Iceni people. They need you.’
Prasutagus shrugged. Cato sensed his wounded honour but could not help the urge to discover the full story. ‘So, how did you come to be King?’
‘I was one of the few who had no part in the rebellion. I was too sick to fight alongside my brothers. So when it was over, the governor chose me to replace the old king. He was killed in the battle.’
‘I see. I am sure that Ostorius’s choice was wise.’ Cato turned and gestured towards their table. ‘Would you care to drink with us? That is Macro’s mother, and the others are comrades from the army.’
‘Macro’s mother?’ Boudica cocked an eyebrow. ‘Now there’s someone I would be fascinated to talk to.’
But Prasutagus was staring coldly at the two tribunes and shook his head. ‘Another day, my friends. When we can speak freely to each other.’
Pellinus flushed at the words and stood up. He addressed Cato. ‘Thank you for the drink, sir. We are expected back at headquarters and have to beg our leave of you now.’
The other tribune looked surprised, but then caught on and nodded in agreement. They bowed their heads to Portia and left the inn, without acknowledging the Iceni rulers. There was a strained silence before Boudica spoke again.
‘You know about the assembly of the tribes, I take it?’
‘Yes. We’ll be part of the governor’s retinue.’
‘I see.’ Some of the warmth had drained from her voice. ‘Then we shall see you there, or perhaps somewhere on the road.’
‘We look forward to it. Now, how about that drink? We’ve a lot to catch up on.’
Boudica was about to reply when her husband broke in with, ‘Another time. Somewhere less. . Roman. Come.’ He took Boudica’s arm and gently steered her towards the door. Prasutagus growled a command to his warriors and they withdrew across the inn to join them before the small party quit the inn and closed the door behind them.
Macro shrugged sadly. ‘Is that the way it has to be between us? So soon after we meet them again?’
‘Time takes its toll in many ways, old friend,’ Cato said kindly.
Macro glared at him. ‘Old? Fuck off. Let’s get back to our wine. Least we don’t have to share it with those freeloading tribunes now.’
They returned to the bench and sat down opposite Portia. Cato raised the jug, frowned at its lightness and shook it. A faint slop of liquid sounded from inside. He refilled Macro’s cup and tipped what was left into his own before raising it in a toast in an effort to restore some cheer to the atmosphere.
‘Here’s to your new business. I’m sure it will be a great success from the amount of passing trade that seems to come through the door.’
