Cato 06 - The Eagles Prophecy Read Free

arrogant prick of a Roman till last. I want him to sweat a little before you deal with him.’
    Hector grinned, and disappeared from sight. Shortly afterwards there was a series of splintering crashes as the pirates cut some timber to build a pyre in the hold of the merchantman. The captain turned his attention back to the chest, squatting down in front of it again. Looking closely, he became aware of just how fine a piece of craftsmanship this was. His fingers stroked the rich sheen of the surface and bumped lightly over the gold and onyx cameos. Telemachus shook his head again. ‘Scrolls . . .’
    Using both hands, the captain eased the catch open and gently raised the lid. He paused for a moment, and then reached in and lifted out one of the scrolls. It was far heavier than he had thought it would be, and for a moment he wondered if there might be some gold hidden inside. His fingers worked away at the thong, and he raised the scroll up to see the knot better, and was aware of a faint citron odour emanating from the book. With a little effort the knot came undone and he shook the thong to one side, holding the end of the parchment in one hand as he unspooled the first few pages of the scroll with the other.
    It was written in Greek. The script was old-fashioned, but legible enough, and Telemachus began to read. At first his features registered a sense of confusion and frustration, as his eyes steadily scanned each line of text.
    There was a sudden scream of terror from the deck of the merchantman, cut short abruptly. A brief pause and then another scream, followed by a shrill voice babbling for mercy, before it too was cut off. The captain smiled. There would be no mercy. He knew his subordinate, Hector, well enough to realise the man thoroughly enjoyed killing other men. Inflicting pain was an art he excelled in, even more so than the skill of commanding a sleek pirate vessel, manned by some of the most bloodthirsty men he had ever met. The captain turned back to the scroll and read on, even as more screams split the air.
    A moment later, he found a phrase that made it all come clear. With a chilling flood of realisation he understood what he was holding in his hands. He knew where it had been written, who it had been written by and, more importantly, he knew how much these scrolls might be worth. Then it occurred to him: he could not ask any price for these, once he approached the right customers.
    Abruptly, he dropped the scroll back into the chest and snapped upright.
    ‘Hector! Hector!’
    Once again the man’s head reared over the side of the captured ship. He rested his hands on the rail, one still holding a long curved dagger, from which blood dripped in to the sea between the two vessels.
    ‘That Roman -’ Telemachus began - ‘have you killed him yet?’
    ‘Not yet. He’s next.’ Hector grinned. ‘You want to watch?’
    ‘No. I want him alive.’
    ‘Alive?’ Hector frowned.’He’s too soft for us. No fucking use at all.’
    ‘Oh, he’s going to be useful, all right! He’s going to help make us richer than Croesus. Bring him to me at once!’
    Moments later the Roman was kneeling on the deck beside the mast. His chest was heaving as he stared up at the pirate captain and his murderous henchman. There was still defiance in his manner, the captain noted. The man was Roman to the core of his being, and behind his cold expression no doubt contempt for his captors outweighed even the terror he must be feeling as he waited for his death. The captain tapped the chest with the toe of his boot.
    ‘I know about the scrolls. I know what they are, and I can guess where you are taking them.’
    ‘Guess then!’ The Roman spat on to the deck at his captor’s feet. ‘I’ll tell you nothing!’
    Hector raised his dagger and lurched forward with a snarl. ‘Why you-’
    ‘Leave him!’ the captain snapped, thrusting his hand out. ‘I said I want him alive.’
    Hector paused, looking from his captain to the