‘That’s a word too far,’ Macro growled, taking a step towards Quertus as his hand slipped down towards the handle of his sword. ‘You bloody take that back or I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat you’ll be shitting them for the next month.’

Quertus stood up and stared down at Macro with an amused smile twisting his lips. But there was a deadly coldness in his eyes that made Cato scared for the life of his friend. He stepped between them before the confrontation could go any further and addressed the optio, still standing nervously by the door. ‘Optio, this fort is the furthest we have pushed into the enemy’s territory. That means we don’t take any chances. If you, or any of your men, even think there is any danger it is to be reported at once. Have you given the word for Severus’s century to be called out?’

The junior officer shook his head. ‘No, sir.’

Cato felt a sick feeling in his heart. It was too late to castigate the optio now. That would only cause further delay. ‘Then do it now. I want Severus and his men on the wall at once. But tell him to do it quietly. Go.’

The optio dashed out, relieved to escape from the stern gaze of his commander. Cato turned to the other officers in the room. ‘It’s probably nothing, like you say, Quertus, but I’ll take no risks over the fort’s safety. Let’s see what’s happening for ourselves.’ Cato paused and gestured towards the prisoner, still hanging by his arms from the iron hook in the beam. ‘You men, return the prisoner to his cell.’