‘Tincommius, since you left your father you have been as a son to me. A much-loved son. But you are too young, too inexperienced, and I fear that there are some of our nobles who would twist your thoughts, and turn you against Rome. I would that you were older, and more resilient to such conniving spirits. Also, like me, you have only recently returned from exile, and are something of an unknown quantity to those men that matter in our kingdom. Artax is known and respected by all. Others look up to him, especially those who fear or hate Rome. He is a man of honour and I have no doubt about his loyalty. I’m sorry. I’ve made my decision and there’s no more to be said.’

Tincommius’ face twisted into an expression of pained bitterness as the king turned back to Artax. ‘Of course, my choice will have to be agreed by the council, but I doubt there will be any opposition. When you become king, Artax, you will see things as clearly as I have come to see them. Then you will know what has to be done.’

Artax nodded slowly. There was a long silence around the fire. Then, as Cato watched him, a smile flickered at the corners of Artax’s mouth. ‘Of course, my lord. I am truly honoured by your decision, and I see now what must be done.’

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Twenty-Four

The weather changed the next day. A slow drizzle began just before dawn and the king’s kitchen slaves struggled to get a decent fire going to cook a light morning meal. Verica and his hunting party gathered round a fire that continually hissed from the raindrops spattering down. There was no hint of orange in the dawn, only a dirty pale yellow away to the east. As the pallid light strengthened the sky became an unbroken grey.

‘Great day for it,’ grumbled Macro as he tightened the straps on his leather leggings.

Cato squinted up into fine spray. ‘Might clear up later.’

‘Pigs might fly.’

‘Let’s hope not,’ smiled Cato. ‘I think I’m going to have enough of a problem with ground-based boar.’

Cato was already dressed for the hunt, and leaning on the shaft of a long hunting spear. Unlike the legionary javelin, this weapon was broad-bladed, with vicious barbs that could only be dislodged by tearing away huge chunks of flesh. Although the spear could be thrown, the heavy shaft meant that this could be done at only very short range. Too short for Cato’s liking.

‘Ever hunted boar before?’ Macro asked with a sinking feeling.

‘I got as close to a boar as I ever want to be the other night.’

Macro grunted.

‘Mind you,’ Cato continued. ‘I’ve seen them hunted in the arena.’

‘That’s not quite the same thing,’ Macro said gently.

‘Ugly brutes.’