Cato 02 - The Eagles Conquest Read Free Page A

positively enjoy picking on him and a smouldering hatred had grown in Cato in response.
    Macro undid the clasp of his wet cloak and threw it across the back of a camp stool which he pulled up in front of the brazier. The steam from a variety of garments drying on other stools rose in orange wisps, and added to the muggy atmosphere of the tent. If the rain outside was the best weather that the British summer could offer, Macro wondered if the island was worth fighting for. The British exiles accompanying the legions claimed that the island had vast resources of precious metals and rich agricultural lands. Macro shrugged. The exiles might be telling the truth but they had their own reasons for wanting Rome to triumph over their own people. Most had lost land and title at the hands of the Catuvellauni and hoped to regain both as a reward for aiding Rome.
    ‘Wonder who’ll get Bestia’s job?’ Macro mused. ‘Be interesting to see who Vespasian will pick.’
    ‘Any chance of you, sir?’
    ‘Hardly, my lad!’ Macro snorted. His young optio had not long been a member of the Second Legion and was not wise to the promotion procedures of the army. ‘I’m out of the running for that job. Vespasian has to choose from the surviving centurions of the First Cohort. They’re the best officers in the legion. You must have several years of excellent service behind you before you get considered for promotion to the First Cohort. I’ll be in command of the Sixth Century of the Fourth Cohort for a while yet, I think. Bet there are some pretty anxious men in the First Cohort’s mess tonight. You don’t get a chance to make chief centurion every day. ‘
    ‘Won’t they be grieving, sir? I mean, Bestia was one of their own.’ ‘I guess so.’ Macro shrugged. ‘But that’s the fortune of war. Anyone of us could have been for the Styx crossing. Just happened to be Bestia’s turn. Anyway, he had had his time in this world. Two years from now he’d only have been going quietly mad in some dull veterans’ colony. Better him than someone with something to look forward to, like most of the other poor sods who’ve copped it so far. And now, as it happens, there are quite a few vacancies to be filled in the centurionate.’ Macro smiled at the prospect. He had been a centurion for only a few weeks longer than Cato had been a legionary and had been the most junior centurion in the legion. But the Britons had killed two of the centurions in the Fourth Cohort, which meant that he was now officially fourth in seniority, with the happy prospect of having two newly appointed centurions to lord it over. He looked up and grinned at his optio.
    ‘If this campaign goes on for a few more years, even you might make centurion! ‘
    Cato smiled at the back-handed compliment. Chances were that the island would be conquered well before anyone credited him with enough experience and maturity to be promoted to the centurionate. At the tender age of seventeen that prospect was years away. He sighed and held out the wax tablet he had been working on.
    ‘The effective strength report, sir.’
    Macro ignored the tablet. Barely able to read and write, he was of the opinion that attempting either was best avoided if at all possible; he depended heavily on his optio to ensure that the Sixth Century’s records were kept in order. ‘Well?’
    ‘We’ve got six in the field hospital - two of those aren’t likely to survive. The senior surgeon told me that three of the others will have to be discharged from the army. They’re to be conveyed to the coast this afternoon. Should be back in Rome by the end of the year.’
    ‘And then what?’ Macro shook his head sadly. ‘A pro-rata retirement gratuity and the rest of their lives spent begging on the streets. Some life to look forward to.’
    Cato nodded. As a boy he had seen the disabled veterans scrabbling for a pittance in the filthy alcoves of the forum. Having lost a limb or suffered a disabling wound,