The Eagles Prey

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'How much further to the camp?' asked the Greek, looking back over his shoulder yet again.'Will we reach it before dark?'

The decurion in charge of the small mounted escort spat out an apple seed and swallowed the sharp-tasting pulp before replying.

'We'll make it. Don't you worry, sir. Five or six miles, I reckon. That's all.'

'Can't we go faster?'

The man was still looking over his shoulder and the decurion could no longer resist the temptation to glance back along the track. But there was nothing to see. The route was clear all the way to the saddle nestling between two densely wooded hills that shimmered in the heat. They were the only people on the road, and had been since leaving the fortified outpost at noon. Since then the decurion, the ten mounted men of the escort he commanded, and the Greek with his two bodyguards, had been following the road towards the massive forward camp of General Plautius. There, three legions and a dozen auxiliary units were concentrated in order to strike a final decisive blow against Caratacus and his army of Britons, drawn from the handful of tribes still openly at war with Rome.

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