‘And that goes for any Druids that are present as well.’
‘Druids? I thought they were our most implacable foes, sir. That was certainly the case when Macro and I last served here.’
‘Oh, they still hate us with a vengeance, and it is official policy not to take any of them alive, but if we don’t allow them to attend then there is no chance of peace. I hope that they can be persuaded to see reason.’
Cato clicked his tongue. ‘The Druids I knew were fanatics, sir. They would gladly die rather than give an inch to Rome.’
Ostorius turned to him with an irritated expression. ‘As I told you before, Prefect, that was several years ago. Men change. Even the most determined of enemies can grow tired of killing each other and desire peace.’
‘Most men, yes. But Druids?’
‘This is the kind of thinking that you must put aside. That is why I am telling you this. There can be no misunderstanding between us, Prefect Cato. You will behave as I have said, to all who attend the meeting, including the Druids. No, especially the Druids. And that goes for the centurion as well. I will not have either of you cause any trouble. That is an order.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. The same applies to Caratacus, if he shows up. Or any who represent the Silures or the Ordovices.’
‘I understand, sir.’
‘Then be so good as to make sure that Centurion Macro does as well.’
With that the governor urged his horse forward to resume his position at the head of the small column. Cato watched him with a sense of misgiving. It seemed that Ostorius might be staking too much on his desire for peace. Even if he could persuade Caratacus to lay down his arms, Ostorius must know that the terms of such a peace would be unacceptable to Rome if they could be construed as a humbling of the Emperor and his legions. However much Cato shared the governor’s desire for an end to hostilities, he feared that the most likely outcome was the continuation of the bitter struggle. Which would suit Macro nicely, Cato reflected with a grim smile. His friend thrived on it. Battle was as much his element as water was to a fish. It would be interesting to see how his friend coped with the governor’s orders.
Cato reined in and waited for Macro and the legionaries to catch up. Macro seemed to have recovered from his hangover and was telling a story as he clutched a wineskin that one of the men had handed him.
‘. . and I said, “That’s just too bad if she’s only got one leg.” And he didn’t get it!’
The others roared with laughter as Cato fell in alongside his friend. ‘That’s an old one. Must be at least the tenth time I’ve heard it.’
‘Jokes are like wine, they only improve with age,’ Macro replied, and hitched his reins over the saddle horn so that he could lift the wineskin and have a quick swig.
‘Is that wise?’
Macro smacked his lips and shrugged. ‘Hair of the dog and all that.’
‘I wonder what your dear mother would say.’
‘You can’t imagine. So what are you doing, slumming it back here with the squaddies?’
‘Passing on orders from the governor. He wants us on our best behaviour in front of the locals. So I’d go easy on the wine if I were you.’
‘Not a problem, I can handle it when I want to. Right now I’m just having a laugh with the lads. You can trust me to play my part when the time comes. Have I ever let you down before?’
‘Not let down as such. You’ve got me involved with a few brawls in your time. There’s a time and place for that. For now we have to be good boys. Model citizens.’
‘If I wanted to be a model citizen I’d never have joined the army.’
‘We’re under orders, Macro. That’s all there is to it.’
Macro nodded sullenly and dropped back to return the wineskin to its owner before he rejoined Cato, who was glancing warily from side to side as the column clopped through the eerie mist. Macro could not help an ironic snort.
‘I just hope the tribes are as keen to win prizes for good behaviour. This would be a fine spot for an ambush. They could hit us from all sides before we knew it.’
‘Thanks for the comforting thought.’ Cato’s eyes and ears were straining to pick up any suspicious movement or sound but there was nothing apart from muted conversation between the tribunes and the bodyguards and the steady, dull clopping of the horses. Above them the sky cleared a little and the sun appeared as a pale disc, providing light but little warmth.
Some hours passed and the sombre ambience was only briefly lifted as the road crested a low ridge before descending back into another valley and more mist. As the sun reached its zenith, the governor halted the column to rest the horses and allow his men a brief break from their saddles. Two of the legionaries trotted forward to hold the reins of the officers’ horses while they stretched their legs.
Ostorius smiled at Cato. ‘How does it feel to be back on British soil? There’s no place in the empire like it for making the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, eh?’
Cato recalled that the mists and fogs of Britannia could wreath the landscape for days at a time, playing havoc with the imagination of some of the men. Not something that plagued Macro, of course, but it left Cato feeling tense and anxious. He was about to respond to Ostorius when he heard it. The faint sound of hoofs pounding along the track.
At once Ostorius’s smile disappeared and he stepped off the road and looked back past his bodyguards standing silently by their mounts.
‘Centurion Macro, get those men off the road. And that servant of yours. Half on each flank, fifty feet out, and wait for my order before you move. The rest of you, mount up and form up across the track.’
As the soldiers moved into position, Cato and the others swung themselves up into their saddles and formed a line across the track. Ostorius stood listening, and was the last man to mount, easing his horse forward so that it stood in the middle of the track a short distance in front of his officers. Cato saw the governor’s left hand slip down to rest on the pommel of his sword as he waited. The sound of the approaching horses was much more distinct now and one of the junior tribunes at Cato’s side cleared his throat nervously.
‘How many of them, do you think?’
Cato was unsure who the question was aimed at but knew that the young officer needed reassurance. He had heard enough cavalry in his time to hazard a guess. ‘No more than ten, I’d say.’
The tribune nodded and, following the example of his commander, he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. Cato noticed the nervous tremor in the officer’s fingers. He recalled his own fears in the early days of his army service when combat seemed imminent. The fear had gone, but he still suffered from the gnawing anxiety of letting his comrades down, Macro foremost. That and the terror of a crippling wound that would leave him as an object of pity and ridicule. Then his thoughts were distracted as his mount shied and tried to retreat from the line. He dug his heels in firmly and gritted his teeth as he struggled to still the brute and get it back into position. By the time that was done the sound of hoofs was much closer and then a shadowy form emerged from the gloom, and there was a shout an instant later, in a tribal tongue. The rider reined in abruptly and then there were several more, forming up on each side, and others behind.
A challenge sounded, in the same language, and Ostorius raised his left hand in greeting. ‘Romans!’
There came a gruff muttering in response and then stillness and silence. A faint metallic scraping sounded close to Cato and he glanced aside to see the tribune’s sword emerging from its scabbard.
‘Put that back, you fool!’ Cato hissed. ‘We do nothing without an order from the governor.’
The tribune eased his blade down and the fingers of his hand clenched and unclenched.
‘Advance and be recognised!’ Ostorius called out. There was a tense pause before one of the Britons urged his horse forward and emerged from the mist, revealing a large man in a fur-trimmed cloak, beneath which mail gleamed dully. His hair fell across his shoulders and as he drew nearer, the governor lowered his hand and bowed his head in greeting. ‘King Prasutagus.’
‘Governor Ostorius,’ came the deep, rumbling reply. ‘I thought that it was maybe an ambush, for a moment.’
‘Who would ambush you here, in territory we control?’
