Caesar’s expression hardened. ‘Since you are so concerned about it, Tribune, then you will take command of the baggage. There will be no place for you in tomorrow’s battle. No share of the victory. I will not have men who fear for their safety at my side in a fight.’ His gaze shifted to Marcus. ‘Nor boys who share such fear. Both of you will return to the column at once. And when you have passed on my orders, stay there.’

Quintus opened his mouth to protest, then clamped his jaw shut and bowed his head before turning towards the horses held ready by one of the troopers. Marcus stood his ground, burning with shame at the accusation of cowardice that Caesar had thrown at him.

‘What are you waiting for, boy?’ Caesar waved his hand. ‘Get out of my sight.’

Marcus nodded, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He glanced towards Festus who gave the slightest of shrugs, then turned to stride stiffly through the snow to catch up with Quintus, his heart filled with a sense of foreboding.

Chapter 16

16

Tribune Quintus watched the rear of the infantry column marching off into the gloom with an anxious expression. Around him the men of the rearguard were busy picking up the marching yokes of their comrades and heaping them on to the supply carts and wagons. Even the wagon of Decimus had been pressed into service and his men were grumbling as they helped the legionaries. Marcus had raised the hood of his cloak the moment they joined the baggage train and did his best to keep out of sight of Decimus as he followed the tribune.

Quintus was no more than five or six years older than himself, Marcus estimated. His cheeks sported only a faint blur of stubble and he looked no different from the youths hanging around the street corners of Rome. Only he was now in charge of five hundred soldiers and another two hundred mule drivers of the baggage train. As Marcus watched, Quintus raised his thumb to his mouth and chewed on the nail.

A fresh flurry of snow had blown down from the mountain peaks. Very quickly, the swirling flakes swallowed up the departing column, filling the air with a mournful moan and faint swish as the wind disturbed the tops of the laden fir trees on either side of the track.

‘You were right to warn him,’ Marcus said quietly.

Quintus turned and frowned at him. ‘I don’t need some ex-slave to tell me that.’

Marcus controlled his anger. ‘I apologize if you think I am speaking out of turn. I just thought you should know.’