‘We’ve done as ordered, sir,’ the optio confirmed. ‘The men haven’t been out of the gates for the last five days.’
‘Good. Have you seen any of the tribal delegations passing by?’
‘Yes, sir. Plenty of ’em. And some of them as might be Druids.’
‘You can tell?’ Macro queried.
The optio thought briefly and nodded. ‘The tribesmen wore bright colours. The others were in plain cloaks. Not many of ’em, mind. But they looked different, and kept themselves apart from anyone else on the road.’
Macro turned to Cato. ‘Druids? Can’t say I’m pleased at the prospect of another run-in with their kind.’
Ostorius rounded on them. ‘There will be no run-in with the Druids, or anyone else. Is that clear? All who attend have been given free passage to and from the rings at Avibarius for a period of ten days. I’ll have the head of anyone who causes any trouble for the duration of the truce.’
‘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
