Read Online The Blood Crows (Roman Legion 12) by Simon Scarrow - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Simon Scarrow
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who really thinks this is going to be just a stroll in the forum is in for a great big fucking surprise. Pardon, madam.’
Portia sighed with exasperation and waved the apology aside. Then she froze and looked towards the doorway of the inn. Cato turned to follow the direction of her gaze and saw that two large warriors had entered the room. They wore heavy capes woven with a checked design in brown and white. Their hair was tied back and braided in a thick queue that hung down their backs. Swirling tattoos covered their hairy arms and long swords hung from baldrics. The native warriors slowly shuffled inside, followed by several more of their companions, including one huge man who had to bow his head to avoid the beams that stretched across the interior. At his side was a woman, her head covered with the hood of a cloak. The serving girl took one look at the giant and hurried through a doorway behind the counter, calling for her master.
As the newcomers made their way to the counter, the leader of the party looked round the room until his gaze rested on the small party of Romans. His expression was fierce, but then a look of puzzlement worked its way through as he stared directly at Macro and Cato.
‘I don’t fucking believe it . . .’ Macro grasped Cato’s arm. ‘Look who it is! Recognise him?’
‘Of course,’ Cato replied quietly. ‘Prasutagus.’
There was a scraping as Macro rose from his bench and called across the room. ‘Prasutagus! It’s me. I mean us. Macro and Cato!’
Decianus nearly choked on his wine. ‘You mean you know that brute?’
Macro ignored the tribune and took two steps towards the native leader and held out his hand. Prasutagus stood still for a moment before he smiled faintly and nodded without offering his hand in return. Macro lowered his and shook his head in wonder. ‘I don’t believe it . . . Prasutagus.’
‘Hello, Centurion,’ a woman’s voice interrupted the startled silence of the inn. Macro turned and saw that the woman had lowered the hood of her cloak to reveal thick tresses of coppery red hair. Her eyes twinkled as she smiled a greeting.
The power of speech failed Macro for an instant before he swallowed nervously and cleared his throat. ‘Boudica . . .’
CHAPTER SIX
‘Queen Boudica, as it happens.’ She affected an aloofness that was betrayed by the smile that she could not suppress.
‘Queen?’ Macro frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I am the wife of Prasutagus, and so queen of the Iceni nation. I assume that you, too, have risen in status since we last saw each other. No longer the centurion we once knew.’
Macro shook his head. ‘Centurion Macro still, though I am more senior than I was.’
Boudica stepped away from the bar and made for the side of her husband and took his hand. ‘We are pleased to see you again.’
The two Roman officers exchanged looks with the rulers of the Iceni tribe, and for a moment no one spoke as memories of shared hardships and dangers flooded back into their minds. Macro felt a deeper pang of loss as he gazed at the woman whose affections he had once known, when Boudica had been no more than the wayward daughter of an Iceni nobleman. At length Prasutagus could maintain his regal aloofness no longer and let out a hearty bellow of mirth, before surging forward and throwing his arms round Macro in a rib-cracking embrace of friendship.
‘Hah! It is good to see you again, Roman! Too many years have passed.’
Macro clasped the giant’s arms and eased himself free of the powerful grip. He took a deep breath before he responded. ‘I see you’ve picked up a bit more Latin since last time.’
‘It is well to speak the tongue of your friend,’ Prasutagus responded, his accent heavy but his words readily comprehensible. He turned to Cato and grasped his hand and smiled warmly. ‘And you, Cato. Still as cunning and brave, I think.’ He tapped the scar that ran down from Cato’s forehead. ‘The
Portia sighed with exasperation and waved the apology aside. Then she froze and looked towards the doorway of the inn. Cato turned to follow the direction of her gaze and saw that two large warriors had entered the room. They wore heavy capes woven with a checked design in brown and white. Their hair was tied back and braided in a thick queue that hung down their backs. Swirling tattoos covered their hairy arms and long swords hung from baldrics. The native warriors slowly shuffled inside, followed by several more of their companions, including one huge man who had to bow his head to avoid the beams that stretched across the interior. At his side was a woman, her head covered with the hood of a cloak. The serving girl took one look at the giant and hurried through a doorway behind the counter, calling for her master.
As the newcomers made their way to the counter, the leader of the party looked round the room until his gaze rested on the small party of Romans. His expression was fierce, but then a look of puzzlement worked its way through as he stared directly at Macro and Cato.
‘I don’t fucking believe it . . .’ Macro grasped Cato’s arm. ‘Look who it is! Recognise him?’
‘Of course,’ Cato replied quietly. ‘Prasutagus.’
There was a scraping as Macro rose from his bench and called across the room. ‘Prasutagus! It’s me. I mean us. Macro and Cato!’
Decianus nearly choked on his wine. ‘You mean you know that brute?’
Macro ignored the tribune and took two steps towards the native leader and held out his hand. Prasutagus stood still for a moment before he smiled faintly and nodded without offering his hand in return. Macro lowered his and shook his head in wonder. ‘I don’t believe it . . . Prasutagus.’
‘Hello, Centurion,’ a woman’s voice interrupted the startled silence of the inn. Macro turned and saw that the woman had lowered the hood of her cloak to reveal thick tresses of coppery red hair. Her eyes twinkled as she smiled a greeting.
The power of speech failed Macro for an instant before he swallowed nervously and cleared his throat. ‘Boudica . . .’
CHAPTER SIX
‘Queen Boudica, as it happens.’ She affected an aloofness that was betrayed by the smile that she could not suppress.
‘Queen?’ Macro frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I am the wife of Prasutagus, and so queen of the Iceni nation. I assume that you, too, have risen in status since we last saw each other. No longer the centurion we once knew.’
Macro shook his head. ‘Centurion Macro still, though I am more senior than I was.’
Boudica stepped away from the bar and made for the side of her husband and took his hand. ‘We are pleased to see you again.’
The two Roman officers exchanged looks with the rulers of the Iceni tribe, and for a moment no one spoke as memories of shared hardships and dangers flooded back into their minds. Macro felt a deeper pang of loss as he gazed at the woman whose affections he had once known, when Boudica had been no more than the wayward daughter of an Iceni nobleman. At length Prasutagus could maintain his regal aloofness no longer and let out a hearty bellow of mirth, before surging forward and throwing his arms round Macro in a rib-cracking embrace of friendship.
‘Hah! It is good to see you again, Roman! Too many years have passed.’
Macro clasped the giant’s arms and eased himself free of the powerful grip. He took a deep breath before he responded. ‘I see you’ve picked up a bit more Latin since last time.’
‘It is well to speak the tongue of your friend,’ Prasutagus responded, his accent heavy but his words readily comprehensible. He turned to Cato and grasped his hand and smiled warmly. ‘And you, Cato. Still as cunning and brave, I think.’ He tapped the scar that ran down from Cato’s forehead. ‘The
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