Chapter 1

Cato felt the golden eyes follow him through the fog. He could feel the anger as a growl shook the very ground beneath his feet. The Aquila eagle, the honorary standard of the Roman army, stood before him. The full moon rose above the thick mist, casting his shadow down towards the standard.

“Give me your name!” came the ominous boom again.

“Octavius Cadmus Cato!” Cato called back “Son of Legate Atticus Maximus Costa. Praefectus Castrorum of the 9th Legion Hispania of the armies of Emperor Claudius Quintilus.”

The ground trembled as eerie laughter echoed throughout the mist.

“They’ve given you a name like you would do a pet.”

“That is my name!” Cato cried, fury overwhelming him. “I am a son of Rome!”

“This is your home, boy!” The voice roared. “Atticus Maximus Costa is no father of yours.”

A wolf’s head emerged out of the mist. A vicious smile split its face as its gaze darted between the standard and Cato. The golden eyes gleamed in the brilliant moonlight. It lunged for the eagle, jaws locked tight around the standard. Cato tried to run, to reach for the standard, but the pull of the moon overpowered him. His legs felt heavy like they couldn’t move. The creature stood up straight and gripped the eagle in a furry hand. The mist still encircling drifted towards it as it walked into the immense cloud.

Cato sat up. It was just a dream. He could feel the cool sweat trickling down his neck and chest. He rushed to the tent entrance and pulled back the screen. The icy breeze cut through Cato piercing his bones. The full moon lit his way as he charged through the falling snow towards the Principia. It was just a dream. Cato burst into the tent; snowflakes scattered across the floor. His eyes shot to the central pedestal. He sighed, a wave of relief washing over him. The Aquila glistened in the candlelight. He fell to his knees, and a chuckle escaped his throat, though he could still feel his heart racing in his chest.

“Only a dream,” Cato whispered to himself.

He could still feel the creature’s eyes on him as he sat there, kneeling before the golden Aquila.

“It’s only been a few weeks and the stress is already getting to me.”

He rose to his feet and walked out once more into the cold winter night. The dim light on the horizon told him it would be morning soon. Cato longed for the sun to rise and melt away at this icy world, but the winters of Britannia are fiendish indeed. The sun would welcome yet another day of frost and snow and do little to warm their aching bones.

“Better get ready, the recruits should be arriving soon.”

He walked briskly back to his tent. The rows of tents went out in almost every direction. Cato was glad he didn’t have to walk far, one of the advantages of being a camp prefect. As he reached his tent, his guard, Flavius, stood waiting for him.

“Flavius!” Cato exclaimed in mock surprise. “Good to see you at your post.”

“Prefect.” The legionary saluted.

His face was taut with worry. They all knew how important duty was to the prefect. He’d not been at his post when Cato burst out before. That was a serious offense, warranting ten to twenty lashes, Cato thought to himself. On second thought this was about time for a change of guard.

“You’re a good soldier Flavius,” Cato sighed placing his hand on the man’s tense shoulder. “you don’t make mistakes like this.”

The man nodded.

“Now come and help me with my armor.

”

Cato entered the tent and the legionary sighed. Cato could sense his reluctance.

“Or do you think you should receive no punishment at all for reneging your post?”

The legionary quickly entered and assisted Cato with his armor. He did a good job too, Cato thought to himself as he assessed his appearance in the polished silver platter, he had Flavius hold. This was a better punishment than death or flogging. No man need die for needing to relieve himself, but Cato knew he had to set an example. When the time really does come the man would stay at his post.

“Permission to enter sir?” Another voice called from outside the tent.

“Enter,” Cato commanded.

As the legionary entered, Cato dismissed Flavius with a slight nod.

“State your business,” Cato ordered after Flavius had left. “What is so urgent that you had to come to my quarters?”

“Apologies sir.” The man held out a scroll. “I was told to deliver this to you right away.”

Cato accepted the parchment and dismissed the messenger. He waited for him to leave before unraveling the message. Cato felt a calm settle over him once again.

“I see the messenger arrived just in time.” A voice broke the silence.

The familiar voice surprised Cato. He spun around to see his father, Atticus Maximus Costa, standing before him. His short brown locks looked relatively neat though there were minute signs that he’d just removed his helmet after wearing it for a while. His clear blue eyes sparkled as stray rays of sunlight beamed through the tent’s entrance.

In comparison, Cato was a ghost. His light blond hair always annoyed him. It had no body, no curls, just flat and straight. Even his complexion was pale leaving him to look like a blank canvas of a man. The only thing of color about him was his eyes, those light brown eyes which glinted in the golden sunlight. Cato stood about a head above his father and his lean build didn’t help to make him look like a Greek column.

“I was just reading your letter,” Cato mumbled into his father’s shoulder. “He only just arrived.”

“I only later found out you had moved the camp closer to Camulodunom.” Costa shrugged, holding his son at an arm’s length. “The men couldn’t travel more than a day for a brothel visit?”

“It was becoming too much to have them venture so far through this weather.” Cato smiled. “Many turned back and returned to camp. Thank Jupiter for the doctor you acquired from King Galas. The Iceni knows how to deal with frostbite. Most of the men didn’t even lose a toe.”

“Well, then I’m sure you’re keen to repay the King for such a convenience.” Costa nodded, walking over to the only table in the tent to pour himself a drink. “Wine?”

“I only have water in here father.” Cato dropped his head apologetically. “I can’t bring myself to drink.”

“Nor do you seem to be able to bring yourself to any other of this world’s luxuries.” Costa laughed motioning to the rather barren tent. “It seems a bed and a stand for your armor is all you need.”

“Not even a bed.” Cato grinned back.

“Well then,” Costa put down the cup. “I guess it’s on to business.”

“Shall we proceed to the Principia?” Cato motioned for the door.

“That won’t be necessary just yet.” Costa waved his hand. “I wanted to talk to you about a very important mission.”

Cato waited for his father to continue but they were interrupted by jeering from outside.

“What’s happening?” Cato asked, making his way to the tent screen.

Costa tried to grab him and hold him back, but Cato was too agile.

“Cato wai—”

“What’s all this noise?” Cato demanded, bursting out of his tent.

Before him stood a goddess like no other. A beautiful woman, her long black hair strung into a single braid. The woman turned to face him, his barging clearly caught everyone's attention. He felt his heart stop as those green eyes pierced him. As the snowflakes fell around her, they caught the rising sunlight, causing them to glint like flecks of gold. Cato barely noticed the twenty Iceni warriors that stood around her.

“Well, are you going to just stand there?” The woman demanded, her voice light on the air yet it carried the confidence of a commander. “Order your men to stand down.”

Cato finally noticed that the men alongside her had weapons drawn. He also noticed the growing mass of legionaries surrounding them.

“At ease men!” Cato called out.

“At ease is correct.” Costa interrupted. “These are our guests. We do not disrespect our guests. They have not disrespected us as guests in their land.”

Cato felt the realization creeping in. He looked at the woman again. She stood there draped in furs, her head held up with the dignity of royal blood.

“I present to you, our honored guest, Princess Boudicca.”