Chapter 2

“I cannot allow it!” Tribune Nonius Balbus paced the Principia, seething. “I will not allow it. You go too far Costa. Making deals with these barbarians without my consultation.”

Cato stood, biting his tongue. This man knew nothing of politics, allowing his own biases to get ahead of his rationality. Such a man knows only the luxuries that come with standing on the marble of the senate. These spoiled children, put in positions for the prestige were one of the few things Cato truly detested. They cared very little for the greatness of Rome unless it was to inflate their own egos.

“Balbus, your father wanted you in Britannia with the 9th because he trusted me.” Costa had remained silent while the boy threw his tantrum, now his interruption seemed to present a very special conundrum. “I’ve no issue with you receiving glory and position at my expense, our houses are bonded by a deeply rooted friendship, but I cannot have you second-guessing me now.”

Cato fought to stop himself from smiling. The sniveling brat’s face flashed with a mixture of surprise, despair, and contempt. He’d been put in his place. Cato noted his father’s wisdom to do so away from the other commanders. That would set a bad example and politically would severe the exact friendship to which Costa had referenced.

“I understand.” Balbus sighed, regaining his composure surprisingly well. “Then your son Cato is to escort the princess?”

This caught Cato by surprise. His father had not informed him of such a detail. He kept his tongue steady. This would not be the appropriate moment to question Costa. Eyeing Balbus, Cato noticed his gaze on him as well. No doubt seeking some evidence of his lack of knowledge on this matter.

“That is correct.” Costa affirmed. “They will leave in the morning.”

“Then let us feast.” Balbus exclaimed. “We cannot disrespect our esteemed guests. I’m certain even they understand etiquette.”

The young tribune marched out of the tent. Cato caught his father’s gaze and understood. They would speak of this later.

The day had passed rapidly as Cato had made his rounds. Now, late afternoon, the sun had begun to descend towards the horizon. Their Iceni guests had been offered the contubernias closest to the Principia. They had taken an entire block with the princess’s tent right in the center. It shows good awareness on her part, Cato thought, you’re never safe, especially with friends.

Cato made his way to the princess’s tent. As camp prefect, and her escort come the morning, he would be in charge of accompanying the Iceni to the feast hall. They greeted him with caution, but it wasn’t long until the brutish faces broke out in smiles. They didn’t even notice Boudicca emerge from her tent. Cato did.

“It would seem the love of mead transcends the boundaries men have placed upon themselves.” Cato remarked, watching the men cheer before turning to face the princess.

“I believe it was a Roman who said that men grow tired of wine and women far quicker than warfare.” Boudicca responded, her emerald gaze drifting far beyond the camp.

The late afternoon sun glittered in her eyes. Her jaw was strong. Cato hadn’t noticed before. She turned to face him.

“You’re doing it again.” Her voice was refreshingly blunt. There was no pretense. “Studying me. I’m not some specimen some pale Roman brat can ogle.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Cato stifled a laugh. “Shall we be going then?”

“Do lead the way.” Boudicca half bowed, mockingly.

The Principia stood close by, and they reached it in moments. The guards drew back the screen.

“My lady.” Cato bowed, beckoning Boudicca to enter first.

Her eyes shot a contemptuous glare and Cato could not help but notice the sly smile that flashed across her slender face.

“It is like for like then?” She commented passing him by without another glance, face raised to the heavens. “It seems you have some patience, perhaps there is more to you beyond the simple honor you were born to.”

Cato followed her inside, calling over an orderly.

“Do escort our friends here to the dining hall.” Cato motioned to the Iceni warriors behind him. “Make sure they are treated well, or it will be your head.”

“We go where she goes.” A large Iceni man boomed, trying to push his way into the Principia.

“That will not be necessary here Oska.” Boudicca said, pushing past Cato and placing her hand on the giant’s shoulder. “I think I can handle a couple of Romans.”

The man nodded and walked off with the frail orderly leading the way.

“Good show.” Cato chuckled. “I thought I would have to put the big man down.”

Boudicca flashed him another toothy grin. Cato’s breath caught in his throat.

“The day has not yet finished Roman.” She retorted. “The time for such a feat may yet present itself to us.”

“Ah Cato!” Balbus’ voice called from within the tent. “I think you’ve kept our guest waiting in the cold long enough. Come in and eat.”

They entered the large headquarters. At the center was a log oak table laden with a feast fit for an emperor. Cato had been rationing the camp for the last three weeks so the fruits and meat before him seemed like gifts from the gods. The layout was strange though. Balbus was seated at the head of the table on a large chair, very different to that of the couches the nobles of Roman are accustomed to.

“My lady, do have a seat wherever you wish.” Balbus motioned to the table. “I’m told this is a custom of your people.”

“I am honored that you have studied my people,” Boudicca retorted. “That would make them easier to control.”

"My dear," Costa stood and beckoned her to sit. "Your father and your people are valued friends and allies. We do not seek control."

Boudicca approached the table and chose the seat furthest from Balbus. Cato eyed a stool midway between them, waiting for Boudicca to be seated before he sat down himself.

“Quite right Legatus. My people prosper under your guidance.” She turned back to Balbus. “It is those born into prestige who drive me from my wits. Those are the men who seek to rule the world yet know nothing of its reality.”

“Some are born to rule, others to serve.” Balbus commented as he tore meat from bone. “That is the order of civilization.”

Boudicca gave a gentle nod and sat down. Cato sat down as well. He could see the frustration on her face. The tribune’s superiority complex had gotten to her. He glanced over to Balbus who was absolutely gleaming.

“I would argue,” Cato felt himself speak without willing to do so. “Though it may be blood which holds merit, it is yet deficient without action worthy of such merit. If we fall into such depths, we would reach the lowest stages of depravity. It would beg us to wonder if such a man was worthy of a noble name.”

Cato had no idea where the words came from. He only knew that he needed to shut the blabbering tribune up once and for all. It seemed to have worked as the tribune stopped eating. The look of complete disdain etched onto his face. Cato met his gaze and refused to shift.

“It would seem the gods have stolen away my Prefect and replaced him with a philosopher.” Balbus scoffed, standing up from the table. “Such deep conversations do not do well for my appetite.”

Without another word, the young tribune stormed out of the tent. Cato let out a sigh and glanced over at his father. The stern gaze was hard to meet but Cato steadied his racing heart. He glanced over at Boudicca who eyed him curiously.

“That went well.” Costa remarked.