The Blood Crows (Roman Legion 12) Read Online Free PDF

older woman, hurriedly assessing their status. The two officers were dressed in neat, new tunics and military cloaks purchased in Rome before their departure. Although there were no insignia to show rank, nor any ornate rings to indicate wealth, the bearing of the two officers and the visible scars told their own story. Particularly the long white line that stretched across Cato’s face from forehead to chin. The sentry cleared his throat and moderated his tone. ‘How may I assist you, sir?’
    ‘Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato and Centurion Lucius Cornelius Macro.’ He nodded towards Macro before continuing. ‘Just arrived from Rome to take up our commands. We wish to report to the governor’s staff and find accommodation for ourselves.’
    ‘You won’t find much of that here, sir. They knocked the fort down two months back.’
    ‘So I gather. I assume that Ostorius and his staff are not working out in the open?’
    ‘Fat chance of that, sir!’ The sentry turned and lowered the tip of his javelin and indicated the scaffolding surrounding a large, single-storey complex. ‘That’s the start of the governor’s palace. He ordered the builders to finish up the ground floor and get out. Still, they managed to get the hypocaust in before they left so they’re all nice and cosy inside. Unlike those of us seconded to escort the governor. Sleeping in tents outside.’
    ‘That’s what soldiers do, lad.’ Macro clicked his tongue. ‘If it’s too tough for you then perhaps you should have joined a pansy troupe of actors or something.’
    ‘Come on!’ Cato waved his arm forward and made his way along the path that had been cleared through the building site. On either side, piles of timber, stacks of bricks and roof tiles and cement-mixing troughs stretched out. The foundations for several large structures had been completed and walls, waist-high, demarcated the first great civic building of the new province that would dominate the landscape and inspire awe in the heart of every native who set eyes on it. Hundreds of men were labouring across the site, with a handful of chain gangs being used to carry materials where they were needed. The sounds of their grunts, the sawing of timber and sharp clatter of stones being cut to size mingled with shouted instructions from the overseers.
    Macro nodded approvingly as they passed through. ‘Should be quite a place, once it’s finished.’
    On the far side of the site a gap had been left in the scaffolding to give access to the half-completed building beyond, which served as the headquarters of Governor Ostorius and his staff. Two of his escort stood guard at the entrance. Once again Cato explained their purpose and then turned to pay off the porters who set their burdens down just inside the makeshift entrance. He reached for his belt purse and loosened the drawstrings.
    ‘That’ll be a sestertius, sir.’ Decimus tapped a finger to his forehead by way of an informal salute. ‘Each.’
    Macro arched an eyebrow. ‘By the gods, that’s a bit steep.’
    ‘It’s the going rate in Londinium, sir.’
    Cato turned to one of the guards. ‘Is it?’
    The legionary nodded.
    ‘Very well.’ He delved into the purse for a few coins, counted them out and handed them over to Decimus and the others. ‘Seems like Londinium’s going to be an expensive town to live in. You may leave us . . . Decimus, a word.’
    The ex-legionary waved his mates on and turned to Cato. ‘Sir?’
    Cato stared at him, trying to see beyond the ragged soiled clothing and unkempt hair to the man who had once been a legionary. If Decimus was speaking the truth then his army career had been cut short by the fortunes of war. The same fortunes that had seen fit to spare Cato and Macro through all the campaigns and desperate battles they had endured over the years. It sometimes felt to Cato that he was sorely testing the luck that had been apportioned to him. Sooner or later a spear, or sword thrust, or