‘If the enemy are as scared of Quertus as our prisoner seems to be then I don’t think we’re going to be in any danger once we enter the valley. Not from the Silurians, at any rate.’

Macro flashed him a searching look. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You heard what Acer said about the previous prefect. Seems that I might have to be careful I don’t go the same way.’

Macro glanced round anxiously before he responded in an undertone, ‘You really think Quertus would do something like that? Bump off his commander in the middle of a campaign?’

‘Can you think of a better time to do it? With the enemy close at hand and casualties piling up, who is going to question one more death? As long as a killer is careful not to be too obvious he could get away with murder. From the sound of things, Centurion Quertus is a man with a pretty ruthless streak, who doesn’t let anyone stand in his way.’

‘That may be true,’ Macro mused. ‘But still.’

‘But still, what?’ Cato said tersely. ‘We’ve known men do worse things, Macro. Far worse.’

‘And there was me thinking that we only had to watch our backs when in Rome.’ Macro swore under his breath. ‘Fuck, what is it with us, Cato? Everywhere we end up we need eyes in the back of our heads. It’s like we’re cursed or something. I thought we’d left that all behind when we came back to Britannia.’

They continued in silence for a while as the track levelled out and then there was a shout from the man riding point. At once Trebellius gave the order to halt and called for the rider to make his report.

‘Something ahead, sir, on the track!’

‘What is it?’

‘Can’t quite make it out. There was a gap in the mist, now it’s gone again.’ The man’s voice betrayed his nervousness and Macro flicked his reins to urge his horse forward.

‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Come on.’

For a moment Cato felt a spark of irritation at his friend taking the initiative before he could react. Then Cato kicked his heels into Hannibal’s flanks and set off after Macro. As they passed the decurion, Macro gestured to him. ‘You too, sunshine.’

The three officers trotted along the track for a hundred paces before they saw the figure of the point rider emerge from the swirling mist, his spear already in his hand as he stared into the gloom beyond.

‘What did you see?’ Macro demanded as they reined in beside the soldier. ‘Out with it, lad!’

‘There was something on the track, sir.’

‘Something?’ Macro growled. ‘Try being more specific. Something, or someone?’

The soldier swallowed. ‘I thought I saw a man, sir, standing on the track. Just for a moment, before the mist thickened.’

‘Did he see you?’