The Eagle's Prophecy

by Simon Scarrow

  Vitellius glanced up at the dim outline of the battlements, then looked carefully around the courtyard before turning back to Ajax. ‘All right then, how do we get inside?’

  ‘Follow me.’ Ajax rose up, still in the centurion’s grasp, and pointed with his spare hand. Vitellius pressed Minucius in the back.

  ‘All right. Go.’

  They crossed the courtyard and moved down the side of the tower until they came to a large studded door. Minucius groped across the weathered timber and his fingers closed on a large heavy iron latch. He was about to lift it when there was a sudden snort only a few paces away, and a shape stirred on the ground, before a raucous snoring rumbled in the darkness. All five of them started at the noise, and when he recovered from the shock, Vitellius pulled Trebius closer and whispered. ‘Take care of him.’

  There was a quiet scraping from the man’s scabbard. The bodyguard leaned over the snoring sentry and, clamping a hand over the man’s mouth, he thrust the tip of his dagger under the sentry’s chin, through the bottom of the skull into his brain, and twisted the handle violently from side to side. The sentry’s body spasmed, and jerked before going completely inert. Trebius slowly removed his hand and pulled the blade free. He wiped it on the sentry’s tunic and returned the dagger to its scabbard. He bent down, lifted the body under the shoulders and dragged it round the corner before padding back to the others.

  ‘Inside,’ Vitellius commanded, and Minucius lifted the latch and slowly pushed the door back. The faint creak did not create an echo and he knew that there was only a small space beyond the door. The centurion stepped inside tentatively and slid his bare feet to and fro, until his shin brushed up against the edge of something hard. He leaned forward and felt with his hands. A step, and beyond that another.

  ‘Stairs, here to the right of the door,’ Minucius whispered. ‘What now, lad?’

  ‘Go up. My father’s quarters are on the corridor to the left. The stairs continue up to the catapult platform at the far end.’

  Minucius led the way on all fours, a step at a time until his fingers detected the landing. He peered round and saw a dim light under a door a few feet away. Beyond that the corridor was barely visible before the darkness swallowed it up again. The centurion crept forward to the door, lowered his head to the stone floor and squinted through the small crack running along the bottom of the door. He could see the legs of various pieces of furniture, a discarded cloak and a few chests. There was no sign of anyone. He listened a moment, but there was only the distant murmuring of voices from above.

  ‘I think we’re alone,’ he whispered towards the staircase, and there was a faint shuffling as the others joined him.

  ‘Stay back and keep hold of Ajax,’ said Vitellius. ‘My bodyguards will go in first…Right, open the door.’

  The latch grated faintly and then the glimmer along the floor instantly spread up alongside the door as it opened and a moment later they were looking into Telemachus’ quarters. As the bodyguards padded ahead, Vitellius and the others followed them inside and the tribune quietly shut the door behind them.

  They had the room to themselves and all four Romans breathed easily as the tension subsided. The room was large and almost square, with a shuttered window in each of the external walls. The remains of a fire glowed in a hearth and lit the room in a rich orange hue. A couch covered in a fine woven rug stood in one corner. At the other end of the room was a large wooden table and behind it a huge chair that looked more like a throne. On either side of the table were stacked small chests. Vitellius looked at them eagerly and then turned to his bodyguards.

  ‘There you go, boys! Just as he said. Come on, let’s have a look.’

  Trebius and Silus crossed over to the table and Vitellius lifted the lid of the topmost chest. Inside they saw the dull gleam of gold. He lowered a hand, clenched a fistful of coins and raised them up for the others to see. The bodyguards and Minucius could not help but grin at the sight. Vitellius smiled at their reaction. ‘You can help yourselves, but keep it quiet. Now then,’ he turned to Ajax. ‘Show me the one I want.’

  There was a slight hesitation as the pirate ran his eyes over the chests, then he pointed. ‘That one there, under the table.’

  Vitellius’ eyes followed the direction indicated and he saw an ornately decorated black box. He bent down and retrieved it. His heart was beating fast as he placed the box on the table. Vitellius could hardly believe he was in the presence of the Delphic scrolls. He ran his hands across the lid, down to the catch and slid it open. There was a keyhole–but the box was not locked. He took a deep breath and lifted the lid. Inside, in the light cast by the fire, he saw three thick scrolls, in soft leather covers, laying side by side.

  ‘Scrolls?’ Minucius said in surprise. ‘Is that it? Scrolls?’

  Vitellius looked up at him with a thin smile. ‘Yes. Just some scrolls.’

  ‘But I thought it was something…special.’

  ‘These are special, Centurion. Some of the most important documents ever written.’

  ‘Oh?’ Minucius shook his head and chuckled. ‘Well, you can have them, sir. I’ll content myself with the gold.’

  ‘You do that…’ Vitellius turned back to the scrolls, reached a hand out and touched them reverently. Then he looked up quickly. ‘Get whatever you want from those chests and let’s get back to the boat.’

  ‘And what happens to me?’ Ajax asked. ‘What of our deal, Roman?’

  Vitellius looked at him. He needed the pirate a while longer, as insurance in case they ran into any of Telemachus’ men. But once it was all over the pirate leader’s son was as expendable as the rest of them. Vitellius placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

  ‘Once we reach the boat, I’ll set you free. You can return to your father’s side.’

  ‘And your promise to spare us, if the citadel falls?’

  ‘You have my word.’

  Ajax looked at the tribune suspiciously for a moment and then nodded, apparently satisfied. He made his way round the desk and sat down in his father’s chair. He intertwined his fingers to form a rest for his chin as he watched Minucius and the two bodyguards start to open the treasure chests.

  Vitellius picked the box up and moved over towards the fireplace. He set the box down and sat beside it. Reaching over to the woodpile, he placed two logs on the embers and stoked the fire up until there was enough light to read by. Then he opened the lid, picked up a scroll and examined the leather cover wrapped over the edge of the scroll. There was some faded text on the cover and he tilted the scroll handles to read it better. It was in Greek, as he had expected, and as the tribune silently translated the script his excitement increased to an almost unbearable pitch. His fingers trembled slightly as he slid the cover off and discarded it. The prophecies were written in fine red strokes on the best vellum he had ever seen. It was almost as soft as the skin of a baby, and he had to still a faint tremor of horror even as the comparison occurred to him. Vitellius rolled the scroll from one handle to the other, scanning the text as it foretold the future of Rome year by year. His eyes lighted on references to a disaster in the forests of Germany, the rise of a mad young prince who would make himself a god, his succession by a foolish cripple…Vitellius raced on, eyes scanning the scroll in feverish anticipation, until at last his hands were still and he found what he was looking for. He read the passage slowly, then again, and again to be quite sure, and he felt the fire of ambition burn in his veins as he read it out quietly.

  When the last of the Claudians, by his own hand, is laid low,

  Rome shall pass to one who bears the sign of the hunter’s bow…

  ‘What was that, sir?’ asked one of the bodyguards.

  ‘Nothing,’ Vitellius replied quietly without turning round. ‘It’s nothing.’

  The bodyguard looked at his master for a moment, and then shrugged before turning back to the boxes spread across the floor around the desk. Every box that he and the other two Romans had opened was fil
led with gold, silver and sometimes precious stones. There was enough wealth in the chests to buy any one of the finest houses in Rome and fill it with every luxury a man could imagine. Yet, as the muted sounds of astonishment and celebration carried across the room to Vitellius, he could not help but sneer at their antics in pure contempt. All the gold in the world was as nothing compared to the value of the scroll resting on his lap.

  Vitellius hurriedly wound the scroll back to the start as he relished the knowledge that he was destined to be one of fate’s most favoured sons. Later, when he was safe, he would read through the rest of the prophecies at his leisure. Carefully replacing the scroll in the box, he shut the lid and, with it tucked safely under his arm, the prefect rose to his feet.

  ‘Time we were leaving.’

  Minucius and the bodyguards hurriedly stuffed the last few coins and jewels into their purses and knapsacks. As the centurion turned to retrieve the prisoner from his father’s chair there was a burst of shouting outside the window.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  For a moment the four Romans stood still as the shouting swelled in volume. Minucius was the first to break the spell and he crossed to the shuttered window, carefully slid the bolts back and eased the shutter open a fraction. Down below, the courtyard was swarming with men, some holding torches aloft. There was a grumble of wheels on cobbled stones and a moment later a narrow wagon lumbered through the gateway. The pirates made way for it as it circled the yard and stopped when it was pointing back towards the gateway. One of the torch-bearers shouted some orders and the pirates moved to the arch at the side of the gateway, threw back the doors and went inside. They reappeared shortly afterwards clutching javelins, bows and arrows, and Minucius realised that the pirates’ arsenal must be under the courtyard walls. The weapons were deposited in the bed of the wagon and the pirates went back for more.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Vitellius whispered.

  ‘They’re loading a wagon.’ Minucius replied. ‘Looks like they’re getting ready to throw everything they’ve got at the marines when the assault goes in.’

  ‘Damn…’ Vitellius clenched his fist in nervous frustration. ‘There’s nothing for it. We’ll have to wait until the courtyard’s clear. Unless there’s another way. Watch him!’

  Minucius spun round and saw that Ajax was moving towards the door. At Vitellius’ warning Trebius drew his sword and leaped towards the door, cutting Ajax off. For an instant the pirate’s eyes narrowed as he calculated his chances against the bodyguard. The hesitation was long enough for Minucius to close on him from behind and kick his legs away. Ajax tumbled to the floor with a winded grunt.

  ‘Don’t try that again, sunshine,’ the centurion growled. ‘Don’t want to have to cut your hamstrings if I can help it.’

  As Ajax sat up painfully and eased himself against one of the treasure chests, Vitellius came over. ‘Is there another way out of here?’

  Ajax shook his head. ‘Only the archway. There are cliffs on the other sides.’

  ‘Can we climb down?’

  ‘No. It’s a sheer drop. It would be madness to attempt it in the dark.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be dark for too much longer,’ said Minucius. ‘As soon as it’s light the prefect is going to come looking for our prisoner. Then we’re well and truly in the shit.’

  ‘Thanks for that cogent summation of our predicament,’ Vitellius responded icily. The bodyguards exchanged a puzzled look, which was not lost on their tribune. ‘You two weren’t hired for your conversation. Now watch him, while I think.’

  Vitellius returned to the window and peered cautiously through the narrow gap. Down in the courtyard the pirates continued to load the wagon. At the present rate, the vehicle would be loaded soon and the courtyard would empty, leaving Vitellius and his men enough time to get out of the citadel and return to the trireme before dawn. He stood still and waited in silence, clutching the box of scrolls to his side. The other men in the room sat down close to Ajax and one of the bodyguards filled in time by cracking his knuckles in a rhythm that quickly irritated Minucius.

  He poked the man in the chest. ‘Stop that.’

  ‘Why?’

  Minucius stared at him in anger. ‘You stop it, because the fucking centurion is telling you to stop it, squaddie.’

  ‘I ain’t no squaddie.’ Trebius’ nostrils flared. ‘And you ain’t no centurion. At least you won’t be once this is all over.’

  Vitellius turned round hurriedly. ‘Quiet! You two trying to get us killed?’

  Minucius nodded towards the bodyguard. ‘What did he mean, “once this is all over.’

  ‘Nothing. Ignore him. He’s just playing the fool.’

  ‘That’s not what it sounded like to me.’ Minucius rose cautiously to his feet and backed off a step, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Before he could say another word there was a shout from the courtyard and, with a crack of a whip, the wheels of the wagon ground across the cobblestones.

  ‘They’re going!’ Vitellius looked out of the window Sure enough the rear of the wagon disappeared into the shadows under the gateway, but the men in the courtyard did not follow it, but leaned against the courtyard walls and waited. Some of them immediately squatted under the light of one of the torches that had been placed in a bracket on the wall and began a dice game.

  ‘What the hell are they waiting for?’ Vitellius muttered. ‘Move, you bastards…’

  But they didn’t move. They just waited, and time seemed to stretch out in an endless torment of frustration and a growing sense of peril for the Romans waiting in the tower room overlooking the courtyard.

  Minucius thumped his fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘We’ve got to do something, sir. We stay here and we’re as good as dead.’

  ‘One way or another…’ Vitellius conceded. ‘Why don’t they move?’

  A slow rumbling of wheels announced the return of the wagon, and the men in the courtyard jumped up and approached the vehicle as soon as it entered the courtyard. The bed of the wagon was filled with wounded men, hastily bandaged, and they were unloaded and carried down into the cellars. As soon as the wounded had been moved the men in the courtyard began to load the wagon with more weapons carried up from under the watchtower. Vitellius looked up from the courtyard and felt his heart sink. A faint loom of lighter sky was defined by the inky black silhouette of the mountains on the opposite side of the bay.

  ‘Oh, no…’

  Minucius turned round. ‘Sir? What is it?’

  ‘We’re about to run out of time. It’ll be dawn soon.’

  ‘Then we must do something, sir. Right now!’

  ‘What do you suggest, Centurion?’

  There was the briefest hesitation before Minucius continued more softly, ‘The cliffs. We’ll have to chance them.’

  ‘But you heard Ajax. It’s impossible.’

  ‘We have to try it. Send one of your men out the other side to have a look.’

  ‘There’s no point. Ajax said—’

  ‘Ajax could be lying, sir. We can’t afford to trust him. At least send your man to check.’

  Vitellius frowned with irritation and glanced outside. The sky was definitely lighter now. There was no time to waste. He put the scroll box on the desk and faced his men. ‘Very well. I’ll go and see for myself.’ He hesitated at the door and looked back over his shoulder. ‘Trebius, you’d better come with me in case we run into anyone.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Vitellius turned to Minucius. ‘Keep the prisoner quiet and stay back from the window. We won’t be long. We’ll knock twice to let you know it’s us.’

  After the door had closed behind them, Minucius waited a moment until the faint sounds of their shuffling footsteps had faded away, then he turned to the other bodyguard and smiled.

  ‘I’m curious about those scrolls. Aren’t you?’

  Silus shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

  Minucius stood to one side of the box and scratched his chin. ‘
There’s more to this than scrolls. Has to be. Something to do with the box, perhaps. Something else hidden in it.’ He frowned as he leaned over the box and then pointed to a mark on the lid. ‘What’s this?’

  The other man ambled over and looked where the centurion had indicated.

  ‘I don’t know. Just where it’s been knocked or chipped.’

  ‘No.’ Minucius stepped aside and back to make room for the bodyguard. As Silus leaned forward, Minucius gripped his sword handle tightly. ‘Look closer.’

  ‘What? I don’t see…’ The bodyguard began to straighten up.

  Minucius snatched his sword out, swung it wide and chopped viciously into the bodyguard’s neck. The blow snapped his head to one side as it cut through flesh, muscle and spine. Minucius ripped his blade back and poised ready to strike again. Blood jetted out from the bodyguard’s neck, and with one last look of surprise at the centurion, Silus crumpled to the floor and a pool of blood steadily widened around his head and chest. He twitched for a moment, and then his body was still.

  The lad had been right, Vitellius reflected in despair, as he and Trebius crept back into the tower and quietly made their way up the stairs to Telemachus’ quarters. They had edged round the base of the watchtower, peered over the edge of the cliff and heard the sea swirling round rocks far below. Even though it was still quite dark it was clear that there would be no escape in that direction. They had found only one place where the cliff seemed to tumble away in a steep slope, and Vitellius had sent Trebius down to see how far he could go. But after clambering a mere twenty feet down, the bodyguard came to a sheer drop and was forced to climb back up.

  So they were trapped in the citadel, while the enemy remained in the courtyard. With the sky steadily growing lighter there was only the slimmest of chances of making it back to the fleet before Ajax was missed. It had always been a risky business, Vitellius conceded, but he was playing for high stakes and that meant being prepared to defy the odds. Only, now that he was trapped, Vitellius fervently wished he had never been made aware of the scrolls.