Macro licked his lips. ‘Any more of that about?’

Decimus glanced at him. ‘All gone, I’m afraid, sir.’

‘I see.’ Macro tapped his nose. ‘I hope you enjoyed it as much as the prefect seems to.’

Decimus looked down awkwardly. ‘Seemed a shame to let it go cold, sir.’

‘I’m sure,’ Macro growled.

For a moment Decimus looked anxiously down at the ground, before he summoned up the nerve to speak. ‘Sir, is there any hope of us getting out of this alive?’

Cato chewed on a morsel of meat and then swallowed. ‘There’s always hope.’

Decimus’s shoulders sank and he nodded in a resigned fashion.

Cato was watching the expressions of the men passing by as he finished his snatched meal. They looked tired, but grimly determined. There were even some who were engaged in cheerful exchanges with their companions. This early success had boosted their morale. But that was hardly necessary. These men were legionaries, hardened professionals, used to hardship and danger and imbued with a firm sense of tradition and the need to uphold the honour of their legion. They would play their part well enough. It was the auxiliaries who concerned Cato. Their morale was more uncertain, a problem exacerbated by the excesses of Centurion Quertus. Although their ranks had been leavened by those legionaries transferred in from the other cohort of the garrison, Cato sensed that their morale was more brittle. They were used to patrolling and raiding the enemy’s territory. This kind of static, stand-up fight required firm resolve. Both units were bound to be tested to the limit in the days to come.

As if anticipating his thoughts, he saw Quertus approaching him along the open ground behind the wall.

‘Here’s trouble,’ said Macro.

‘Not necessarily.’

‘With him, necessarily, I’d say.’

Cato drew himself up to his full height as the Thracian approached and nodded an informal salute to his superior. ‘A tough night, sir. But we gave them a hiding and sent ’em packing.’

‘Oh really?’ Macro scratched the stubble on his jaw. ‘You think we’ve won then?’

‘For now. They won’t dare to make another frontal assault in a hurry,’ Quertus asserted confidently. ‘Not now we’ve proved, once again, that they should be afraid of us.’

Macro glanced at Cato and cocked an eyebrow. ‘Heroes all, eh?’

Cato ignored the comment and addressed the Thracian. ‘I take it you have something to report?’

‘Yes, sir. My horses. We’ve got oats to feed them for a few days as you know, but they’ll need watering.’

‘Of course they will. There’s plenty in the fort’s cistern. And there’s plenty in the well.’

Quertus shook his head. ‘They’ll drain the cistern in a couple of days. And they’ll run the well dry in even less time.’

‘I see. Then we’ll have to ration their water and their feed.’