Read Cato 03 - When the Eagle Hunts for Free Online Page B

women at the counter were anything to judge the profession by. Besides, the only woman on his mind was Lavinia, and the best way to rid his mind of her for the moment was to drink.
    Several cups of wine later his eyes felt as if they were perpetually swinging round and round, and it was worse when he shut them. Some kind of focus was needed and his gaze wobbled over to the group of legionaries at the other table, and the segmented armour they were wearing.
    He jabbed a finger at Macro. 'Is that stuff any good, sir?'
    'Stuff? What stuff?'
    'That kit they're wearing. Instead of chain mail.'
    'That, my lad, is the new issue of armour the legions are being equipped with.'
    Parnesius stirred his head from where it rested on his folded arms and shouted out in a parade-ground way, 'Body armour, segmented, legionaries for the use of! Get it fucking right, son!'
    'Ignore him,' Macro whispered to Cato. 'He works in the quartermaster's office.'
    'I guessed.'
    'Oi! You lot!' Macro called out to the other table. 'Let's be having you. The optio here wants to see your new armour.'
    The legionaries exchanged looks. Finally, one of them replied. 'You can't tell us what to do. We're off duty.'
    'Don't give a shit. Get your arse over here,' Macro shouted. 'I mean NOW!'
    First one, then the others, meekly rose from the table and came over. They stood at the side of the table while the officers examined their equipment with some curiosity.
    'How's it wear?' Macro asked, rising from the bench for a closer examination.
    'Well enough, sir,' the first one to rise from his seat responded. 'Lighter than chain mail. And it's tougher. It's made up of these solid strips.'
    'It looks like shit. How can you move in that?'
    'It's articulated, sir. It adjusts to your movements.'
    'You don't say?' Macro tugged at the armour, and then lifted the cloak at the back. 'Fastened by these buckles, I take it.'
    'Yes, sir.'
    'Easy to get on?'
    'Yes, sir.'
    'Expensive?'
    'Cheaper than the mail.'
    'How come you lot in the Twentieth are the only legions to get this issue? It's not as if you do much fighting.'
    The officers laughed as the legionary fumed at this slight. He barely managed to recover his temper enough to reply, 'Dunno, sir. I'm just a squaddie.'
    'Stop calling him sir,' one of the other legionaries hissed. 'We don't have to now.'
    'I can't help it.'
    'Don't do it!' the legionary said firmly. 'Otherwise what's the point in being off duty?'
    'You!' Macro thrust a finger into the man's chest. 'Just shut it! You talk when you're fucking told to and not before. Understand me?'
    'I understand,' the man replied firmly. 'But I'm not obeying orders.'
    'Yes you fucking are!' Macro swung a fist into the man's midriff, and swore violently as it connected with the new armour. With his other hand he smacked the man in the face, sending him reeling into his comrades. Macro's follow-through swung him round and he collapsed onto the man he had hit with a howl of laughter.
    'OK, lads, rank doesn't apply. Let's ruck!'
    Every officer, except Cato, lurched to his feet and piled into the legionaries who, like Cato, just stared dumbfounded — until the first few blows had landed. Then, drunken wits recovered, the legionaries fought back and the bar was filled with the sound of crashing tables and benches. The barman hurried his women out of the room.
    'Come on, Cato!' Macro called out from beneath a legionary. 'Get stuck in!'
    Wobbling to his feet, Cato took aim at the nearest legionary and swung his fist as hard as he could. He missed completely and struck the wall instead, badly grazing his knuckles. He tried again, and this time the blow landed on the side of a man's head with a painful jarring sensation. Cato became aware of a fist flying in towards his face, and for the second time that night the world went white. With a grunt he sagged to his knees and tried to shake his head clear. When his vision returned, Cato saw a legionary standing over him with a stool raised above