Cato's Cavalry
- Thread starter Cymraeg
- Start date
ironically it may well really have been an accident, given that the obvious suspect, Narses, would be well obvious, and thats not how he worked.
Secondly Narses was close to Theodora, who was VERY friendly to Bellisarius's wife, so would need very strong motivation to kill him.
Possibly revenge by Persian agents?.
Damn the man. He had to stop underestimating that bloody, bloody man Cato. He looked at him quickly, through the chaos. He was sitting there on his horse, calmly watching as men defected by the century, marching or in some cases running over to the opposing cavalry, their arms reversed, their standards lowered, shouting with anger or purpose or defiance at Beliatrix. Yes, damn the man, with those two standards by him, the Dragon Banner and the Eagle. Masterstrokes, both of them.
His own plan hadn’t been too bad. Ride with Beliatrix – that bewildered, and probably now broken, man – and meet Cato and then spark something off that would lead to a melee that would have ended with one of the two getting a knife in the side. That would have started a battle, he knew it. That would have both sides clawing at each other like animals.
But now… well yes there was chaos right now, but the possibilities that had existed just a little while ago had evaporated like spit on a hot oven. For one thing Cato was now surrounded by a group of rather fierce riders. The two bannermen for a start were both circling on their horses, looking intently around at the mass of men as they surged across the distance separating the two forces, in many cases with their arms conspicuously reversed. Then there was the older man with the insignia of a Decurion, the scowl of a veteran and a massive sword that looked familiar. Malgo? Shit, that was Malgo. And then there were the others, including a short rider in a large helmet and green cloak who was somehow steering his horse with his knees whilst holding a bow with a nocked arrow. No, trying after Cato would be a lethal mistake.
That left Beliatrix. He looked at the wretched man as he shouted, red-faced and ineffectual, at the chaos around him. His forces were dissolving into anarchy around him but he seemed to think that shouting might somehow repair the situation. Hmm. Not many eyes were on him now, which rendered it all a bit moot. He thought about it for a long moment. It wouldn’t take much – a quick ride close, a jab at that gap in the join where the breastplate met the back armour that the idiot had always left open since he was a teenager – but that would be pointless now as well as suicidal, and he felt a pressing need to live so that he could spend all that lovely gold.
His horse was getting skittish and he knew that he had very little time left to make a decision. Beliatrix was getting quieter now as he seemed to finally realise that all was lost and that his forces would never take up arms. Not against that man. Not against those banners. A piece of cloth and a golden remnant of a different age, but they had the power to stop men in their tracks. Even Beliatrix seemed to have realised that and he was a fool.
Ah. Beliatrix was spurring his horse in the direction of the gates. Excellent. There was chaos in the air and he could use that to his advantage. A quick jab and Cato would be left with a tarnished legacy, whilst he himself vanished off towards Gaul with his gold. He followed his ‘leader’.
His own plan hadn’t been too bad. Ride with Beliatrix – that bewildered, and probably now broken, man – and meet Cato and then spark something off that would lead to a melee that would have ended with one of the two getting a knife in the side. That would have started a battle, he knew it. That would have both sides clawing at each other like animals.
But now… well yes there was chaos right now, but the possibilities that had existed just a little while ago had evaporated like spit on a hot oven. For one thing Cato was now surrounded by a group of rather fierce riders. The two bannermen for a start were both circling on their horses, looking intently around at the mass of men as they surged across the distance separating the two forces, in many cases with their arms conspicuously reversed. Then there was the older man with the insignia of a Decurion, the scowl of a veteran and a massive sword that looked familiar. Malgo? Shit, that was Malgo. And then there were the others, including a short rider in a large helmet and green cloak who was somehow steering his horse with his knees whilst holding a bow with a nocked arrow. No, trying after Cato would be a lethal mistake.
That left Beliatrix. He looked at the wretched man as he shouted, red-faced and ineffectual, at the chaos around him. His forces were dissolving into anarchy around him but he seemed to think that shouting might somehow repair the situation. Hmm. Not many eyes were on him now, which rendered it all a bit moot. He thought about it for a long moment. It wouldn’t take much – a quick ride close, a jab at that gap in the join where the breastplate met the back armour that the idiot had always left open since he was a teenager – but that would be pointless now as well as suicidal, and he felt a pressing need to live so that he could spend all that lovely gold.
His horse was getting skittish and he knew that he had very little time left to make a decision. Beliatrix was getting quieter now as he seemed to finally realise that all was lost and that his forces would never take up arms. Not against that man. Not against those banners. A piece of cloth and a golden remnant of a different age, but they had the power to stop men in their tracks. Even Beliatrix seemed to have realised that and he was a fool.
Ah. Beliatrix was spurring his horse in the direction of the gates. Excellent. There was chaos in the air and he could use that to his advantage. A quick jab and Cato would be left with a tarnished legacy, whilst he himself vanished off towards Gaul with his gold. He followed his ‘leader’.
No surprise. Dream jobs often turn out to be oversold. Sorry it had to happen to you.
Ach, sorry to hear it. For what it's worth, Cato's Cavalry continues to excel.
God dammit it all.
I finnally managed to catch up. I didn't want that to happen. I wanted there to be more every-time I fancied it.
Ugghhhh god I hate how addicting your writing is
But in all seriousness, this is a bloody brilliant TL. Probably my favorite at this point. So good job and keep at it!
I finnally managed to catch up. I didn't want that to happen. I wanted there to be more every-time I fancied it.
Ugghhhh god I hate how addicting your writing is
But in all seriousness, this is a bloody brilliant TL. Probably my favorite at this point. So good job and keep at it!
Sorry for the delay in this. For various reasons that I won't go into I am about to go back to freelancing, which will be more convenient overall.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everyone seemed to be shouting at him and he snapped back orders as fast as he could. The garrison was to muster by centuries. Centurions were to keep order. Anyone possessing gold coins from the Eastern Empire was to be questioned about where they got them from.
“Sir,” Malgo rumbled, “What about Beliatrix?”
Cato looked at the retreating figures who were entering the gates. “A man without an army. But there still might be men inside he could order about. Malgo, get someone to organise the garrison properly, then join me. Bannermen – with me!”
They rode for the gates, Cato in front followed by the bannermen and then what amounted to his bodyguard. They were an eclectic bunch, including the youngest son of Gaius Lerix and an odd little northerner with a bow and a hood and an ability to steer his horse with his knees. They had to move quickly, just in case Beliatrix managed to rally any other forces within Eboracum, and he rode hard for the gates. As they approached it he heard someone shouting at them from the gatehouse, followed by someone else shouting at the first person, but by then Cato was leading his group in.
The gatehouse was in chaos, not that he blamed them, but some shouted orders calmed them as discipline reasserted itself with a snap. Cato asked to see the duty officer, a small sallow man with a hunted look, and when that man asked about his authority he stared him down and then pointed at the Dragon Banner.
Once things started to return to a semblance of order he led his growing group down the main road that led to the fortress. This was the dangerous part, this was the one spot where a man with a spine could stop them. But the main gate was also in chaos, as men ran chaotically to and fro, shouting and asking for orders. The Dragon Banner and the Eagle silenced most, until the cheers started and Cato smiled and then started issuing yet more orders. The men welcomed the sudden return of order out of the chaos of rumour and insanity that seemed to have enveloped Eboracum.
“Where is Beliatrix?” That was the most important question to ask and it seemed to get a rough answer in terms of fingers pointing in the general direction of his father’s office. Cato strode off there, a growing knot of men around him. The younger Lerix was at his side whilst the odd little Northerner had vanished somewhere. “Find Beliatrix!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He’d darted away from the main group near that idiot, muttering something about getting the latest report – in the dullest voice that he could manage of course. Too many people were there and he was having second thoughts about his plan. Killing Beliatrix was no chore at all, in fact he welcomed the opportunity of killing the idiot who he’d forced himself to pander to for so many years. The man had the brains of a magpie at times – fixated on shiny things.
It was a shame though. A quick knife in the side of the wretched man and he’d be left dying. And his death would leave everyone wondering why he had died… with some wondering who had ordered his death. Naturally some would suspect Cato. Such a shame. Or not perhaps. The damn man had ruined so much. Perhaps he should find some time to pay him back a bit. Perhaps now. Perhaps later.
He strode into his room, closed the door behind him, pulled out the bag of gold from its hiding place and sighed as he looked at it. The trick was going to be to live to spend it. Then he rammed it into a saddlebag.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beliatrix was eventually discovered in his father’s study, behind his desk, looking dishevelled, desperate and faintly unhinged. His father’s banner and insignia – or what he must have thought were his father’s banner insignia – were on the desk. Wonder of wonders his flunkies had vanished somewhere and Cato made a note to find them all and question them. In cells if need be.
“I…. am the Dux!” Beliatrix said in a voice that held more than a note of raggedness. “I inherited the title from my father!”
Cato looked him with a combination of pity and contempt. “No,” he said quietly. “You are not. You know that now. Stop denying it.”
The other man quivered with a combination of emotions, which appeared to be rage, fear, incredulity and blind panic. “I command in the North!”
“You command nothing outside this office. And little inside it.” Harsh, but so very true. Cato took a step towards the desk. “Who encouraged you in this madness? I know about the gold from Constantinople that people have been spreading around in your name. That gold cost me a good friend.”
Beliatrix stared at him. “Gold? Constantinople?” He looked even more bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
Cato looked at him through narrowed eyes. Oh. What a fool. “Your brother was right about you.”
The staring redoubled. “What?”
“Your brother said that you were easily manipulated. Someone has been using you and you didn’t even notice it, did you?” Cato stepped closer. “Someone has been spreading solidi from Constantinople around this city, around this region. Someone has been suborning men, good men, from their duty. Someone has been trying to raise rebellion. Someone has been trying to start a civil war. Think man! Who amongst your entourage, who amongst your friends, has been encouraging you?”
“Rebellion… but… I am Dux!”
“Fool!” roared Cato as he brought a fist down on the desk, making both it and Beliatrix shake for a moment. “No you are not! Aemilianus is the sole Dux in Britannia! Now – think!”
Beliatrix looked around, his mouth working and his mind obviously reeling. “Gelix and Sertorius were always supportive,” he whispered. “Strophontes was his usual self. And Caecilius, well, he would always be there to…” His voice ground to a halt. “No. No, he’s always been a good friend, but the slow one. He’d talk about things a day after they’d been mentioned and… and he’d bring up new aspects. But he’s an idiot, he said it himself, he’s always known that, I’ve always known that…”
Cato rolled his eyes and then turned and strode to the door, where he found Malgo approaching. “Find Lucius Caecilius at once. It seems he’s been playing everyone for fools.”
The Decurion’s eyebrows flew up for a moment and then he stamped to attention and nodded. “And… him, sir?” He jerked a thumb at Beliatrix, who had slumped onto his chair.
“He’s under confinement. I want guards on this door. He’s not to leave and he’s to be stopped from throwing himself on his sword, or whatever ‘honourable’ way out he might think up. And Malgo?”
“Sir?”
“Tear this fortress apart if you have to, but I want Caecilius found. Now.”
“Yes sir, I’m find some reliable men.”
“What about Lerix and that little Northerner?”
Something flickered in Malgo’s eyes. “I’ll find them sir.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He peered around a corner and then darted down the corridor. All he had to do was get out. Well, find Beliatrix, ideally stick a knife in him, find some way of blaming Cato and then get on the next boat to Gaul.
Another corner. And… oh, he could hear shouting somewhere, far behind him. Damn it. More men, more activity. More meddling.
He sped up and started to run. Down another corridor and then – he skidded to a halt. A short figure in a green cloak and with a large helmet was standing in front of him. With a nocked bow and arrow. “Hello Caecilius,” the figure said and he blinked at the sound of the voice. “You killed my father didn’t you?”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everyone seemed to be shouting at him and he snapped back orders as fast as he could. The garrison was to muster by centuries. Centurions were to keep order. Anyone possessing gold coins from the Eastern Empire was to be questioned about where they got them from.
“Sir,” Malgo rumbled, “What about Beliatrix?”
Cato looked at the retreating figures who were entering the gates. “A man without an army. But there still might be men inside he could order about. Malgo, get someone to organise the garrison properly, then join me. Bannermen – with me!”
They rode for the gates, Cato in front followed by the bannermen and then what amounted to his bodyguard. They were an eclectic bunch, including the youngest son of Gaius Lerix and an odd little northerner with a bow and a hood and an ability to steer his horse with his knees. They had to move quickly, just in case Beliatrix managed to rally any other forces within Eboracum, and he rode hard for the gates. As they approached it he heard someone shouting at them from the gatehouse, followed by someone else shouting at the first person, but by then Cato was leading his group in.
The gatehouse was in chaos, not that he blamed them, but some shouted orders calmed them as discipline reasserted itself with a snap. Cato asked to see the duty officer, a small sallow man with a hunted look, and when that man asked about his authority he stared him down and then pointed at the Dragon Banner.
Once things started to return to a semblance of order he led his growing group down the main road that led to the fortress. This was the dangerous part, this was the one spot where a man with a spine could stop them. But the main gate was also in chaos, as men ran chaotically to and fro, shouting and asking for orders. The Dragon Banner and the Eagle silenced most, until the cheers started and Cato smiled and then started issuing yet more orders. The men welcomed the sudden return of order out of the chaos of rumour and insanity that seemed to have enveloped Eboracum.
“Where is Beliatrix?” That was the most important question to ask and it seemed to get a rough answer in terms of fingers pointing in the general direction of his father’s office. Cato strode off there, a growing knot of men around him. The younger Lerix was at his side whilst the odd little Northerner had vanished somewhere. “Find Beliatrix!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He’d darted away from the main group near that idiot, muttering something about getting the latest report – in the dullest voice that he could manage of course. Too many people were there and he was having second thoughts about his plan. Killing Beliatrix was no chore at all, in fact he welcomed the opportunity of killing the idiot who he’d forced himself to pander to for so many years. The man had the brains of a magpie at times – fixated on shiny things.
It was a shame though. A quick knife in the side of the wretched man and he’d be left dying. And his death would leave everyone wondering why he had died… with some wondering who had ordered his death. Naturally some would suspect Cato. Such a shame. Or not perhaps. The damn man had ruined so much. Perhaps he should find some time to pay him back a bit. Perhaps now. Perhaps later.
He strode into his room, closed the door behind him, pulled out the bag of gold from its hiding place and sighed as he looked at it. The trick was going to be to live to spend it. Then he rammed it into a saddlebag.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beliatrix was eventually discovered in his father’s study, behind his desk, looking dishevelled, desperate and faintly unhinged. His father’s banner and insignia – or what he must have thought were his father’s banner insignia – were on the desk. Wonder of wonders his flunkies had vanished somewhere and Cato made a note to find them all and question them. In cells if need be.
“I…. am the Dux!” Beliatrix said in a voice that held more than a note of raggedness. “I inherited the title from my father!”
Cato looked him with a combination of pity and contempt. “No,” he said quietly. “You are not. You know that now. Stop denying it.”
The other man quivered with a combination of emotions, which appeared to be rage, fear, incredulity and blind panic. “I command in the North!”
“You command nothing outside this office. And little inside it.” Harsh, but so very true. Cato took a step towards the desk. “Who encouraged you in this madness? I know about the gold from Constantinople that people have been spreading around in your name. That gold cost me a good friend.”
Beliatrix stared at him. “Gold? Constantinople?” He looked even more bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
Cato looked at him through narrowed eyes. Oh. What a fool. “Your brother was right about you.”
The staring redoubled. “What?”
“Your brother said that you were easily manipulated. Someone has been using you and you didn’t even notice it, did you?” Cato stepped closer. “Someone has been spreading solidi from Constantinople around this city, around this region. Someone has been suborning men, good men, from their duty. Someone has been trying to raise rebellion. Someone has been trying to start a civil war. Think man! Who amongst your entourage, who amongst your friends, has been encouraging you?”
“Rebellion… but… I am Dux!”
“Fool!” roared Cato as he brought a fist down on the desk, making both it and Beliatrix shake for a moment. “No you are not! Aemilianus is the sole Dux in Britannia! Now – think!”
Beliatrix looked around, his mouth working and his mind obviously reeling. “Gelix and Sertorius were always supportive,” he whispered. “Strophontes was his usual self. And Caecilius, well, he would always be there to…” His voice ground to a halt. “No. No, he’s always been a good friend, but the slow one. He’d talk about things a day after they’d been mentioned and… and he’d bring up new aspects. But he’s an idiot, he said it himself, he’s always known that, I’ve always known that…”
Cato rolled his eyes and then turned and strode to the door, where he found Malgo approaching. “Find Lucius Caecilius at once. It seems he’s been playing everyone for fools.”
The Decurion’s eyebrows flew up for a moment and then he stamped to attention and nodded. “And… him, sir?” He jerked a thumb at Beliatrix, who had slumped onto his chair.
“He’s under confinement. I want guards on this door. He’s not to leave and he’s to be stopped from throwing himself on his sword, or whatever ‘honourable’ way out he might think up. And Malgo?”
“Sir?”
“Tear this fortress apart if you have to, but I want Caecilius found. Now.”
“Yes sir, I’m find some reliable men.”
“What about Lerix and that little Northerner?”
Something flickered in Malgo’s eyes. “I’ll find them sir.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He peered around a corner and then darted down the corridor. All he had to do was get out. Well, find Beliatrix, ideally stick a knife in him, find some way of blaming Cato and then get on the next boat to Gaul.
Another corner. And… oh, he could hear shouting somewhere, far behind him. Damn it. More men, more activity. More meddling.
He sped up and started to run. Down another corridor and then – he skidded to a halt. A short figure in a green cloak and with a large helmet was standing in front of him. With a nocked bow and arrow. “Hello Caecilius,” the figure said and he blinked at the sound of the voice. “You killed my father didn’t you?”
Donald Reaver
Donor
Very nice update. too bad, not so sad Caecilius, sounds like an end to this point of the story arc. Going to be hard to put the blame on the e.r.e.for proof as far as I can see at this point. In the end not really important if Roman-Britain can maintain its independence and make further advances to future growth. In some ways they may get to the point where they get to o.t.l. point of interfering in Europe to maintain a part of a balance of power.
I have not seen anything much yet to see a expansion of sea power, but if they can solidify the area of Britain they control at this point, I would hope they can take it to the next stage. While Belisarius may show up at some point, not sure if he turn his talents over to naval matters, though that could be very interesting.
I have not seen anything much yet to see a expansion of sea power, but if they can solidify the area of Britain they control at this point, I would hope they can take it to the next stage. While Belisarius may show up at some point, not sure if he turn his talents over to naval matters, though that could be very interesting.
Very nice. Please have Caecillus drown in either the Ouse,or the Foss( I've forgotten what they were called in Roman Britain, although I think that the Ouse was the Abus) held down by his bag of gold!
This damn chapter caused me more trouble than the previous ten combined. I had real difficulties over it. Oh and then there was also the fact that I resigned from my job because a) the bloody publication was on life support from the start, b) trying to find news for it was so hard that I was getting severely stressed and c) my wife has been diagnosed with osteoarthritis, meaning that it's better for me to be at home freelancing. So having just finished off a major and highly lucrative feature for a US magazine I went back to this chapter and lo and behold - no more problems! Normal service will now resume.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cato raged through the bowels of the fortress of Eboracum like a force of nature, questioning, querying, talking and in the case of one bewildered and drunk man, shaking until the wretched man fell to his knees and then threw up.
Some had seen Caecilius. Some had not. Some had seen a man who looked like him. Some had not. And some had seen someone who might have looked like him, but he’d been travelling too fast to tell for sure.
All Cato knew was that he was in a very bad mood. Caecilius. Caecilius the idiot. The man who was supposed to have been the spear-carrier for Beliatrix, if a slow one. He had played them all for fools. Not bad. And now he was gone, his quarters empty, probably running with more gold. He needed to track that bastard down, stick a knife against his throat and then a lot of questions.
He strode down a corridor, turned a corner – and then stopped dead. There was a junction up ahead and someone was standing there. Short, wearing a green cloak and with a large helmet. Oh, and he had a nocked bow and arrow in his hands, which he was pointing at someone. He strode towards him – and then as he approached he saw the other man. Caecilius. Who was the man being threatened with the bow and arrow. Excellent.
And then the man with the bow spoke and Cato froze. “Why did you kill my father? And how?” Oh. Oh. Not a man. Not a man at all. It was her.
He looked at the tip of the arrow and did his best not to sweat too much. Whoever she was – and what the hell was a woman doing here, in the bowels of the fortress? – she was holding that bow at full draw without any difficulty. While he was wearing a breastplate for protection it wouldn’t do him any good if that arrow went where it was being pointed right now, namely at his left eye. “Who are you?” he growled.
“You killed my father,” she repeated. Which was unhelpful.
“I’ve killed many people,” he hissed. “Who was your father?”
“Tortorius.”
He felt his eyes widen at that name. The name of the annoying little fool who had always avoided him, who always looked at him as if he seemed to suspect something but could never say what. Then he put the last pieces together. “Cottia.” He said the word in shock. She was supposed to be some spoilt only child, who had vanished weeks, no, months ago. She wasn’t supposed to be here, still less pointing a damn weapon at him!
“Yes, Cottia.” She smiled slightly and briefly. “Now – my father?”
He stared at her. All of a sudden he had very dry lips and he needed to find the nearest latrine. There had to be a way out of here, away from this crazy bitch with the bow. Unfortunately he had no doubt at all that if he reached for his dagger she would loose that arrow straight at his head. He’d seen what happened in such cases. The defender tended to die horribly.
“I thought that he died of a stomach complaint,” he said eventually, partly in a need to waste time and partly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
The slight creaking noise made by the bowstring as it was pulled a little further back was the kind of answer that he really didn’t want to hear. “The truth.” She said the two words through gritted teeth.
Cato took a slow step forwards. This had gone on for long enough. He didn’t know how in the name of hell Cottia had gotten to Eboracum (although he had some sudden suspicions) but enough was enough. Caecilius had to be taken into custody, He had to be questioned. They needed him to talk.
“Lucius Caecilius,” he said quietly, “You are under arrest, upon my authority as Legatus Legionis.”
To their credit neither jumped at his approach, although Caecilius seemed to shift from one display of tension to another. Cato watched him carefully. The man looked as if he was about to run – if he felt that he could. The man’s eyes flickered in his direction for a heartbeat. “Cato.” He said the word in a way that somehow managed to combine relief and dread.
“Cottia…” He said her name carefully. There was much that he wanted to ask her (such as how she had gotten here), but also much that did not want to be asked at that moment.
To her credit she never took her eyes off Caecilius. “Cato.”
“He needs to be captured and questioned. He has done much that needs to be answered for.”
The bow creaked slightly. “I want to hear from him about what he did to my father.”
Cato looked at the man. “And I want to hear from him about why he tried to foment civil war here. The fate of your father was just a part of this.”
Cottia’s eyebrows twitched at this, before coming down again as she scowled. “I want my revenge, Lucius,” she growled.
“You will get it, eventually. I swear it.”
Cottia smiled bitterly for a moment – and then she took a step back. Unfortunately Caecilius took that to mean that she was somehow taking her eye off her, because his hand flashed to the knife at his belt. This was a mistake. The bow came down in a flash and then it sang. The arrow sped across the corridor and embedded itself in the man’s shoulder, where the breastplate ended, forcing a moment of sudden shock as he stared at it, followed by a scream of pain.
Not that Cato cared about the pain that Caecilius must been feeling. He launched himself at the traitor, knocking him against the wall with a great clatter and then he drew his sword quickly and held it against the throat of the keening man as he reeled against the bricks. “Yield!” He roared the word so loudly that it echoed down the corridor.
Caecilius looked at him with a face wracked with a combination of agony and fear – and then the bow creaked again. “I yield,” he moaned.
“Relax that bowstring, Cottia,” Cato said with a grim smile. “He’ll tell us all that we want to know.” There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the gasps of pain coming from the wounded man, and then they heard the first clatter of hobnails on flagstones as soldiers rushed towards them. Only then did the bow slowly creak as the tension was gradually released. He relaxed slightly. Oh, this was going to be a fascinating set of conversations.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cato raged through the bowels of the fortress of Eboracum like a force of nature, questioning, querying, talking and in the case of one bewildered and drunk man, shaking until the wretched man fell to his knees and then threw up.
Some had seen Caecilius. Some had not. Some had seen a man who looked like him. Some had not. And some had seen someone who might have looked like him, but he’d been travelling too fast to tell for sure.
All Cato knew was that he was in a very bad mood. Caecilius. Caecilius the idiot. The man who was supposed to have been the spear-carrier for Beliatrix, if a slow one. He had played them all for fools. Not bad. And now he was gone, his quarters empty, probably running with more gold. He needed to track that bastard down, stick a knife against his throat and then a lot of questions.
He strode down a corridor, turned a corner – and then stopped dead. There was a junction up ahead and someone was standing there. Short, wearing a green cloak and with a large helmet. Oh, and he had a nocked bow and arrow in his hands, which he was pointing at someone. He strode towards him – and then as he approached he saw the other man. Caecilius. Who was the man being threatened with the bow and arrow. Excellent.
And then the man with the bow spoke and Cato froze. “Why did you kill my father? And how?” Oh. Oh. Not a man. Not a man at all. It was her.
He looked at the tip of the arrow and did his best not to sweat too much. Whoever she was – and what the hell was a woman doing here, in the bowels of the fortress? – she was holding that bow at full draw without any difficulty. While he was wearing a breastplate for protection it wouldn’t do him any good if that arrow went where it was being pointed right now, namely at his left eye. “Who are you?” he growled.
“You killed my father,” she repeated. Which was unhelpful.
“I’ve killed many people,” he hissed. “Who was your father?”
“Tortorius.”
He felt his eyes widen at that name. The name of the annoying little fool who had always avoided him, who always looked at him as if he seemed to suspect something but could never say what. Then he put the last pieces together. “Cottia.” He said the word in shock. She was supposed to be some spoilt only child, who had vanished weeks, no, months ago. She wasn’t supposed to be here, still less pointing a damn weapon at him!
“Yes, Cottia.” She smiled slightly and briefly. “Now – my father?”
He stared at her. All of a sudden he had very dry lips and he needed to find the nearest latrine. There had to be a way out of here, away from this crazy bitch with the bow. Unfortunately he had no doubt at all that if he reached for his dagger she would loose that arrow straight at his head. He’d seen what happened in such cases. The defender tended to die horribly.
“I thought that he died of a stomach complaint,” he said eventually, partly in a need to waste time and partly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
The slight creaking noise made by the bowstring as it was pulled a little further back was the kind of answer that he really didn’t want to hear. “The truth.” She said the two words through gritted teeth.
Cato took a slow step forwards. This had gone on for long enough. He didn’t know how in the name of hell Cottia had gotten to Eboracum (although he had some sudden suspicions) but enough was enough. Caecilius had to be taken into custody, He had to be questioned. They needed him to talk.
“Lucius Caecilius,” he said quietly, “You are under arrest, upon my authority as Legatus Legionis.”
To their credit neither jumped at his approach, although Caecilius seemed to shift from one display of tension to another. Cato watched him carefully. The man looked as if he was about to run – if he felt that he could. The man’s eyes flickered in his direction for a heartbeat. “Cato.” He said the word in a way that somehow managed to combine relief and dread.
“Cottia…” He said her name carefully. There was much that he wanted to ask her (such as how she had gotten here), but also much that did not want to be asked at that moment.
To her credit she never took her eyes off Caecilius. “Cato.”
“He needs to be captured and questioned. He has done much that needs to be answered for.”
The bow creaked slightly. “I want to hear from him about what he did to my father.”
Cato looked at the man. “And I want to hear from him about why he tried to foment civil war here. The fate of your father was just a part of this.”
Cottia’s eyebrows twitched at this, before coming down again as she scowled. “I want my revenge, Lucius,” she growled.
“You will get it, eventually. I swear it.”
Cottia smiled bitterly for a moment – and then she took a step back. Unfortunately Caecilius took that to mean that she was somehow taking her eye off her, because his hand flashed to the knife at his belt. This was a mistake. The bow came down in a flash and then it sang. The arrow sped across the corridor and embedded itself in the man’s shoulder, where the breastplate ended, forcing a moment of sudden shock as he stared at it, followed by a scream of pain.
Not that Cato cared about the pain that Caecilius must been feeling. He launched himself at the traitor, knocking him against the wall with a great clatter and then he drew his sword quickly and held it against the throat of the keening man as he reeled against the bricks. “Yield!” He roared the word so loudly that it echoed down the corridor.
Caecilius looked at him with a face wracked with a combination of agony and fear – and then the bow creaked again. “I yield,” he moaned.
“Relax that bowstring, Cottia,” Cato said with a grim smile. “He’ll tell us all that we want to know.” There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the gasps of pain coming from the wounded man, and then they heard the first clatter of hobnails on flagstones as soldiers rushed towards them. Only then did the bow slowly creak as the tension was gradually released. He relaxed slightly. Oh, this was going to be a fascinating set of conversations.
Last edited: