The Blood Crows (Roman Legion 12) by Scarrow Simon

Author:Scarrow, Simon [Scarrow, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2013-10-23T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Two days later, just before dawn, Cato was lying on a bed of bracken in a shallow fold in the ground on the side of a steep hill. It had been a cold night and the clammy damp of the dew had caused him to shiver in the last hour before the glow of the rising sun crept above the crest of the mountains to the east. For the first time in many days the sky was clear and a fine day lay ahead. Cato had left his scarlet cloak back with the rest of the men camped in the trees and donned one of the black cloaks so as not to stand out against the landscape when dawn came. At his side Quertus was silently scanning the peaceful scene below them. To their right and left sprawled the heavily forested slopes of the ridge. A wide vale, a mile across, was filled with gently rolling cultivated land, sown in strips and interspersed with stone pens in which herds of goats lay still on the ground, providing warmth for the kids that had been born in the spring and now slept pressed into their mothers. There were several clusters of round huts, the largest occupying a hillock in the centre of the vale overlooking the surrounding landscape. The main hut was more than fifty feet across, Cato calculated, and a thin trail of smoke lifted lazily from the opening in the thatched roof. Two men leaned against the daubed walls either side of the entrance that they were guarding. More men were asleep around the remains of the fires that still smouldered on the open ground in front of the hut. Several small buildings were close by.

‘That’s our first target,’ Quertus said quietly as he pointed towards the main hut. ‘The tribe’s chief and his retinue. He’s got at least a hundred men down there. That’s quite a number for a village this size. He must have some visitors. Then there’ll be more men in the farmsteads. Perhaps another hundred men in their prime, but I doubt many of them have ever wielded anything more dangerous than a club or a scythe.’

‘Even a scythe can bring a tear to your eye.’ Cato suppressed a bitter smile as he thought of the grievous wound that had once been inflicted on him by a scythe-wielding Druid. The scar still made the skin around the side of his chest feel tight from time to time. He thrust the memory aside. ‘So, what is your usual plan of attack?’

Quertus studied the ground briefly before replying. ‘The vale at the far end opens out on to that river valley. I’ve sent four squadrons round the back of the hills to cut across the open ground and block any escape in that direction.’

Cato looked at him sharply. ‘This is the first I’ve heard about it. When did you give them their orders?’

‘Last night. When you and Centurion Macro were asleep.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me when I woke? As the prefect of the cohort I should be told.

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