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
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
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