‘He’s here, sir!’ a legionary replied and Cato thrust his way through to the foot of the gatehouse. In the gloom he saw a legionary spreadeagled on the ground, lying still. Another was sitting with his back to the gate, nursing an injured arm, one hand clamped over the wound to stem the blood. One of the men was kneeling beside a figure lying on his side. Cato felt his heart leap as he crouched down. Macro’s eyes were flickering and he groaned feebly, but there was no sign of blood on his body.

‘He took a blow to the head,’ said one of the sentries. ‘Saw it happen just after you arrived, sir.’

Cato felt relief, then the rage flowed back and he stood and turned to Quertus, his sword thrust out towards the Thracian. ‘Arrest that man! Arrest all of them!’

‘Sir?’ Centurion Petillius looked confused.

‘Cowards!’ Cato spat. ‘Cowards and deserters! Do as I order. Arrest them!’

Petillius took a step towards them. ‘Drop your weapons!’

Quertus laughed harshly. ‘I don’t think so. If you take on me then you take on all my men. Isn’t that right, boys? We’ve had enough of this Roman puppy! He has not earned the right to command you. This fort is mine. This fort belongs to Thracians!’ He punched his sword into the air and the men around him cheered uncertainly, then again with more heart. Cato noticed that some of those who stood in the ring of men around the gatehouse joined in, and began to cross the open ground to join their commander. A chill of fear trickled down his spine at the growing danger of the situation. He stepped forward and addressed the ring of men.

‘Hear me! Hear me!’

The cries of the other men died away and Cato thrust his finger at Quertus. ‘This man, this coward, was about to abandon the fort and leave us to our fate!’

‘Liar!’ Quertus shot back. ‘I was sending my men to raise the alarm since this Roman refused to give the order! He would have us die here! I would save us.’

Cato pointed at Maridius. ‘Then what is the enemy prince doing here? You were going to use him as a hostage to get through the enemy lines. Is that not so?’

Quertus’s eyes narrowed craftily. ‘Of course. What chance would my men have without him? Better to put him to some good use than let him rot in chains.’

‘And you were going to remain here, I suppose,’ Cato asked cynically. ‘After you sent these men on their way?’

‘Of course. My place is here, beside my comrades. Leading them into battle.’