Caratacus smiled briefly. ‘You can’t imagine. As I recall, when you were my prisoner we talked at length.’
‘We did, sir. I hoped to persuade you to give up the struggle.’
‘And here we are, years later. You are older but no wiser, it seems.’
It was Cato’s turn to smile. ‘I was thinking the same thing about you, sir.’
Caratacus’s expression was fixed for a moment before he smiled sadly. He clasped Cato’s forearm. ‘Well said. It is a pity that we should be enemies.’
‘Then let us not be enemies, sir.’
‘It is too late for that. Rome should have treated us as partners, rather than try to be our masters. If we ever meet in battle, I shall kill you without pity or regret.’
Cato pursed his lips. ‘Perhaps. Or maybe the next time we meet, you will be my prisoner.’
Caratacus’s expression darkened. He released Cato’s arm and strode back across the ring towards the gateway, summoning his followers. Macro watched him leave and then muttered to his friend, ‘It seems that the time for talking is over. Now we’ve got a fight to the finish on our hands.’
Cato said heavily, ‘There was never going to be any real negotiation. It was already too late. Caratacus wants a war, and Ostorius is all too willing to give him one. This was all a waste of time. Now it’s about to become a waste of good men.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As soon as the governor and his party returned to the outpost he dismissed his bodyguards and retired into the optio’s cramped quarters to confer with his officers. The meeting with the tribes had been far shorter than Ostorius had anticipated and there was no prospect of it being resumed the following day. After Caratacus and the Romans had withdrawn, several other contingents had followed suit, some setting off immediately for their homelands even though night had fallen. It was clear that any attempt to agree terms for peace across the island had failed.
‘If Caratacus wants to continue the war then he shall have it,’ Ostorius announced to his officers as they crowded round the small table which, together with a stool and bed, constituted the only furniture. ‘I shall not be returning to Londinium but making for the army headquarters at Cornoviorum at first light. Decianus, you will ride back to Londinium and inform the staff of my decision. They are to pack up and join me as soon as possible. Send word to the commanders of the Ninth and Second Legions that I shall be commencing the campaign as early as possible, and they will be responsible for ensuring the security of the province behind the frontier zone. Prefect Cato, you and Macro will ride to Glevum and report to Legate Quintatus.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Gentlemen, my plans are made, it only remains to put them into effect as swiftly and fully as possible. There will be no mercy shown to those who side with Caratacus. My orders are that there is no requirement to take prisoners. Such women and children as are spared will be marched to the rear and sold to the slave contractors at the depots. All hostile settlements we encounter are to be torched and razed. I meant what I said earlier. Those who take up arms against Rome are to be crushed. Is that quite clear?’
His officers nodded.
‘Then you had best retire for the night and get what sleep you can. That’s going to be something of a luxury in the days ahead. Dismissed.’
The officers saluted and filed out of the room into the darkness. Macro saw that the small garrison was under arms and spread out along the palisade. The optio must have spoken to some of the governor’s bodyguards and heard what had taken place in the sacred ring. He was taking no chances and had ordered his men to keep watch through the night. The legionaries of the bodyguard had settled round the garrison’s cooking fire and were warming themselves as they muttered in low, anxious tones about what they had witnessed. To one side Decimus was carefully bathing the wounds of Marcellus. The tribune had stripped to his loincloth and was carefully spooning gruel into his mouth and making a gurgling noise as he struggled to swallow. As he ate, the servant washed the grime from his pitifully emaciated body, revealing the bruises and cuts that told of the brutal treatment the tribune had been subjected to.
‘What will become of that poor sod?’ Macro wondered.
‘I am sure he has family in Rome. They will care for him, as best they can.’
Macro stared a moment longer. ‘It would have been kinder to kill him. Fucking barbarians. No better than animals.’
‘Maybe, but they’re clever. Everyone who sees Marcellus on his journey home is going to learn what happens to those soldiers captured by the enemy and it’s going to shake them. Even more so back in Rome, far from the battlefield. A mutilated young aristocrat is going to be something of a talking point. It may add weight to the words of those arguing that we should not expand our territory in Britannia, and even abandon the province altogether. Caratacus knows how to make his point eloquently, and ensure that it is rammed home as deeply as possible. Killing Marcellus would have been a wasted opportunity.’
Macro stared at his friend. ‘By the gods, you’re as cold-hearted as he is.’
‘No, I just understand the thinking behind his deeds. My only worry is that Ostorius may be playing into the enemy’s hands. If he brings fire and sword to the mountain tribes, he may turn some of the others against us. There’s a wider problem too. If our men get used to treating the natives harshly, it’s going to be hard to rein them in when they are redeployed after the campaign. That’s assuming we manage to hunt down Caratacus and force him to turn and fight.’
‘I was under the impression that he was spoiling for a fight,’ Macro replied. ‘He made a bloody great song and dance about defeating Marcellus’s column, and how it was only the beginning.’
‘Yes, he did. So perhaps that’s the impression he is keen to give us.’
Macro sighed irritably. ‘And what exactly do you think he intends, then?’
‘I’m not certain. If we strike deep into the mountains looking for his army, or his main stronghold, then we’ll be stretching our lines of communication, and leaving them vulnerable to raids. Looks to me like he’s reverting to his old tactics. Luring us on, only to strike at our rear. He’s certainly succeeded in goading Ostorius.’
‘Or he’s getting over-confident and looking for a set-piece battle on favourable terms.’
Cato shrugged doubtfully. ‘There’s a further possibility.’
‘Which is?’ Macro queried with forced patience.
‘The show he put on was as much for his own followers as us. He’s fighting a long war. It’s going to stretch the resources and will of his own followers as much as our side. And whereas our soldiers have discipline, the tribesmen need to be inspired to fight. I wonder how far Caratacus can depend on them. As long as he presents them with victories they will stand by him. If we grind them down then he’s going to be forced to fight a battle while he still has enough men prepared to follow his standard.’
‘Then let’s hope that’s what happens. I don’t fancy spending the next few years chasing shadows through mountains and forests.’
‘Quite.’ Cato reflected for a moment. ‘At least one of our officers appears to have the right idea. That centurion Quertus has made his mark on Caratacus. Sounds like a good man to have around when I take command of the Thracians.’
Macro scratched his chin. ‘Quertus might not be so pleased about it. He’s making a name for himself, and then you fetch up. Could be a difficult situation.’
‘Not if he’s half the officer you are, Macro.’ Cato stretched his shoulders and yawned. ‘Better get some rest.’
They retrieved their saddlebags from the stable and made their way across to their quarters. Inside the small barrack block a single oil lamp provided just enough light to see. The tribunes had already settled down on their bedrolls, wrapped in their thick military cloaks. A handful were still awake as Macro and Cato picked their way over to the far corner and laid out their thin rolls of coarse cloth stuffed with horsehair.
‘I’m telling you,’ Decianus was muttering to his companions. ‘This campaign is going to be a disaster. These people are savages. No better than wild animals. .’
