They ran down along the edge of the water until they came to the boats, over a dozen of them. From one came the unmistakable sounds of lovemaking, and Figulus looked towards Cato and drew a finger across his throat. Cato shook his head. There’d already been enough killing and it seemed abhorrent to slaughter a pair of lovers into the bargain. As it was, the moans and groans and cries of passion were sufficiently loud to cover any sounds made by Cato and his men as they eased two of the craft into the water and pushed them out until the cold water reached their thighs.

‘Optio,’ Cato whispered.

‘Sir?’

‘Take that man. Get away from here any way you can. Then go north. Find Vespasian and tell him where this camp is, and tell him that Caratacus is about to move against the Third Cohort.’

‘What about you, sir?’

‘I’m going to warn Maximius.’

Figulus shook his head wearily. ‘It’s your funeral.’

‘Maybe. But there’s far more lives at stake than his. Just make sure you find Vespasian. If he’s quick he might just save the Third Cohort, and force Caratacus to fight.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then go.’ Cato reached out his hand and the two men exchanged a forearm grasp. ‘Good luck, Optio.’

‘You too, sir. I’ll see you back at the legion.’

‘Yes . . . go.’

There was a good deal of splashing as the Romans clambered aboard the two boats. A dark shape rose from one of the craft on the river bank and a string of foul Celtic oaths followed them into the darkness as the four men paddled away. Once they had put some distance between them and the island camp Cato glanced back over his shoulder. There was a faint glimmer that silhouetted the roofs of some of the huts, and the wavering spark of torches being carried amongst the huts. But no sign of pursuit.

‘We did it, sir!’ the legionary with Cato laughed. ‘We escaped from those bastards.’

Cato strained his eyes. ‘It’s Nepos, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, Nepos, we’re not out of trouble yet. So do me the favour of keeping your damn mouth shut, and paddle for all for you’re worth.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Cato took one last look back, and wondered briefly if Metellus had found a way out. Of all the condemned men who had escaped with him, only a handful now remained. And on their shoulders rested the lives of hundreds of comrades, who were completely unaware of the attack that Caratacus was about to unleash on them.

05 The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE