When the Eagle hunts (c-3) by Simon Scarrow

Author:Simon Scarrow [Scarrow, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adv_history

Chapter Nineteen

'Come on, you dozy beauties!' roared Centurion Hortensius as he stuck his head into Macro's tent. Macro was fast asleep on his camp bed, snoring with a deep bass rumble. To one side Cato slumped over a desk where he had been compiling the Sixth Century's strength re'turn when the irresistible need for rest had finally overvhelmed him. Outside, in the century's line of tents, the mc.n were also fast asleep, and so it was with the rest of the. Fourth Cohort. Except Senior Centurion Hortensius. Afe seeing to the injured and giving orders that a hot meal be prepared for the cohort, he had gone to make his report.

To find himself in the presence of not only the legate but also the commander of all the Roman forces in Britain was something of a surprise. Tired-as Hortensius was, he stood to attention and stared rigidly ahead as he outlined the short history of the Fourth Cohort's patrol. Giving the bare details, without embellishment, Hortensius delivered his report with the formal tonelessness of a long-serving professional. He answered their questions in the same style. As the debriefing proceeded, Hortensius became aware that the general seemed to want far more from his answers than he could possibly provide. The man seemed to be obsessive about even the smallest details concerning the Druids, and was horrified when told of Diomedes's slaughter of the Druid prisoners.

'He killed all of them?'

'Yes, sir.'

'What did you do with the bodies?' asked Vespasian.

'Dumped them in the well, sir, then filled it in. Didn't want to give their mates any further excuse to give us a hard time.'

'No, I suppose not,' Vespasian replied, with a quick glance at the general. The questions continued for a little while before the general relented and curtly waved him towards the door. Vespasian was angered by the general's casual dismissal of the veteran centurion.

'One final thing, Centurion,' Vespasian called out.

Hortensius halted and turned round.'Sir?'

'You did an excellent job. I doubt many men could have led the cohort as you did.'

The centurion inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the praise. But Vespasian was unwilling to let the matter rest there. He placed heavy emphasis on his next words. 'I imagine there will be some kirid of commendation or award for your performance…'

General Plautius looked up. 'Er, yes.., yes, of course.

Some kind of award.'

'Kind of you, sir.' Hortensius addressed his reply to his legate.

'Not at all. It's well-deserved,' Vespasian said crisply.

'Now, one last thing. Would you be kind enough to send Centurion Macro and his optio to see us? At once, if you please.'

Cato had dipped his head into an icy butt of water in an attempt to be more wakeful in front of his legate, and he looked a sorry state as he and Macro entered the headquarters tent. His dark hair was plastered across his forehead and beads of water trickled down either side of his nose and dropped in dark spatters on his tunic. Macro looked sidelong at him and frowned, largely oblivious of his own appearance.

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