Read Online Cato 02 - The Eagles Conquest by Simon Scarrow - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Simon Scarrow
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nettles. The man had reached the weir and reined in his horse. He called out again, the words still indistinct above the faint roar of tumbling water. Pyrax waved his hand again, and followed it with a slow, elaborate shake of the head. The Briton turned downriver and shouted something to his comrades, a short distance beyond. After a brief exchange the Briton dug his heels into his horse and continued approaching the river bend.
‘What now?’ Pyrax asked softly.
‘When I say “now” you beckon him and steer the horse back round the bend until you are out of sight of the others. We’ll jump him.’ ‘Great. And then?’
‘One thing at a time.’
As Cato continued to watch from cover, the horseman walked his mount closer, his demeanour casual and unconcerned as he enjoyed the early summer morning. Cato wriggled back a short way and gently drew his sword. Taking his cue, the other men braced themselves to spring once the Briton had passed beyond them. Then when the man was no more than a hundred feet away, close enough for Cato to see beneath his helmet he was just a youngster, the shrill cry of a Celtic war horn carried up the river. The Briton checked his horse and turned back towards the band of horsemen. They were wheeling round, arms waving frantically, gesturing for him to come at once. With a final shout towards Pyrax, the young Briton turned his horse and kicked it into a trot towards his comrades who were already surging up the slope in the direction of the fortified river crossing.
‘What shall I do?’ asked Pyrax.
‘Nothing. Stay still until they’re out of sight.’
As Cato had expected, the Britons were in too much of a hurry to spare their lone scout any attention and the horsemen disappeared without a backward glance at Pyrax. When the youngster had disappeared into the trees, Pyrax relaxed his grip on the reins and slumped forward.
‘Shit! That was close.’
‘Nice work!’ Cato smiled as he rose up and patted the horse on the side of its head.
‘What was all that about? That blast on a horn.’
‘I guess they’ve discovered the Batavians. You’d better get back to Vespasian at once and let him know what’s happened. We’ll continue down the river but I doubt we’ll encounter any more of their scouts now. You get going.’
‘Right!’ Pyrax yanked the reins round and kicked in his heels. ‘Pyrax!’ Cato called after him. ‘You’d better lose the helmet and cloak before you go if you want to survive long enough to make the report!’
Chapter Ten
A distant mass of infantry and cavalry was forming up behind the British fortifications as Vitellius looked anxiously towards the north-east. It was almost midday, the sky was a deep blue and the sun beat down on the two armies facing each other across the river. From where he stood he had a glorious view across the gently rolling landscape, much of it cleared for the cultivation of cereal crops, gently rippling like sheets of green silk in the light breeze. This land would make an excellent province for the empire, he decided, once its inhabitants had submitted to Rome and adapted to civilised ways. But that submission was not forthcoming. Indeed these people were proving to be a somewhat tougher nut to crack than the army had been led to believe. Their technical knowledge of modern warfare was sadly lacking but they fought with an élan that was most impressive.
As soon as the Roman warships had expended their incendiary ammunition, the Britons had scurried out from behind their earthworks and thrown up a screen of rubble-filled wicker baskets to protect them from the bolt-throwers as they repaired the fire damage. Many more men had been cut down in the process, but the Britons had simply heaved the corpses up onto the earth works. One particular warrior had proved extremely aggravating for the Roman artillery crews. He was a huge man, with a winged helmet over his blond hair, and he stood naked at the water’s edge, shouting
‘What now?’ Pyrax asked softly.
‘When I say “now” you beckon him and steer the horse back round the bend until you are out of sight of the others. We’ll jump him.’ ‘Great. And then?’
‘One thing at a time.’
As Cato continued to watch from cover, the horseman walked his mount closer, his demeanour casual and unconcerned as he enjoyed the early summer morning. Cato wriggled back a short way and gently drew his sword. Taking his cue, the other men braced themselves to spring once the Briton had passed beyond them. Then when the man was no more than a hundred feet away, close enough for Cato to see beneath his helmet he was just a youngster, the shrill cry of a Celtic war horn carried up the river. The Briton checked his horse and turned back towards the band of horsemen. They were wheeling round, arms waving frantically, gesturing for him to come at once. With a final shout towards Pyrax, the young Briton turned his horse and kicked it into a trot towards his comrades who were already surging up the slope in the direction of the fortified river crossing.
‘What shall I do?’ asked Pyrax.
‘Nothing. Stay still until they’re out of sight.’
As Cato had expected, the Britons were in too much of a hurry to spare their lone scout any attention and the horsemen disappeared without a backward glance at Pyrax. When the youngster had disappeared into the trees, Pyrax relaxed his grip on the reins and slumped forward.
‘Shit! That was close.’
‘Nice work!’ Cato smiled as he rose up and patted the horse on the side of its head.
‘What was all that about? That blast on a horn.’
‘I guess they’ve discovered the Batavians. You’d better get back to Vespasian at once and let him know what’s happened. We’ll continue down the river but I doubt we’ll encounter any more of their scouts now. You get going.’
‘Right!’ Pyrax yanked the reins round and kicked in his heels. ‘Pyrax!’ Cato called after him. ‘You’d better lose the helmet and cloak before you go if you want to survive long enough to make the report!’
Chapter Ten
A distant mass of infantry and cavalry was forming up behind the British fortifications as Vitellius looked anxiously towards the north-east. It was almost midday, the sky was a deep blue and the sun beat down on the two armies facing each other across the river. From where he stood he had a glorious view across the gently rolling landscape, much of it cleared for the cultivation of cereal crops, gently rippling like sheets of green silk in the light breeze. This land would make an excellent province for the empire, he decided, once its inhabitants had submitted to Rome and adapted to civilised ways. But that submission was not forthcoming. Indeed these people were proving to be a somewhat tougher nut to crack than the army had been led to believe. Their technical knowledge of modern warfare was sadly lacking but they fought with an élan that was most impressive.
As soon as the Roman warships had expended their incendiary ammunition, the Britons had scurried out from behind their earthworks and thrown up a screen of rubble-filled wicker baskets to protect them from the bolt-throwers as they repaired the fire damage. Many more men had been cut down in the process, but the Britons had simply heaved the corpses up onto the earth works. One particular warrior had proved extremely aggravating for the Roman artillery crews. He was a huge man, with a winged helmet over his blond hair, and he stood naked at the water’s edge, shouting
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