‘As it happens, I’ve been fortunate . . . very fortunate to have Centurion Quertus on hand to take command of the outpost at Bruccium while we waited for you to arrive. Quertus has been taking the battle to the enemy at every opportunity. He’s burned more villages and killed more Silurians than any other man in the army. And the enemy have come to fear him. According to some of the prisoners we’ve taken, they call him the Blood Crow, and even the name strikes fear into their hearts.’

‘The Blood Crow . . .’ Macro repeated and cocked an eyebrow at Cato. ‘Did the prisoners say why, sir?’

‘It’s straightforward enough. The Thracian cohort have a crow on their standard. I imagine the blood part is down to the methods used by Quertus and his men. It seems that the cohort has adopted the name for the unit. They call themselves the Blood Crows now.’

Cato felt a cold tingle at the base of his spine. ‘What methods do you mean, sir?’

The legate hesitated for a moment before he replied. ‘Centurion Quertus has risen from the ranks. He was recruited in Thrace, though his family comes from the mountains in Dacia, far from anything we might recognise as civilisation. So some might consider his methods . . . questionable. But then the outpost is in the heart of Silurian territory and perhaps one needs to fight the barbarians on their own terms if we are to achieve victory. Speaking of which . . .’ He reached to the side and drew out a long roll of parchment and spread it out across his desk. Cato saw that it was a map. The marks indicating the position of the Roman forces and the surrounding terrain were detailed, but large sections of the map were blank, beneath the inscription of the names of the Silurian and Ordovician tribes.

The legate tapped his finger on the map. ‘Glevum. I have the Fourteenth and two cohorts of auxiliary cavalry and four cohorts of infantry under my command. A third of my column is garrisoning the forts we have built, or are in the process of building. Our job is to control the valleys and act as the anvil upon which the main weight of the Roman army will strike like a hammer. The hammer is the main column under the governor. He is based further north, here, at Cornoviorum, with the Twentieth Legion, and twelve cohorts of auxiliaries. When he is ready to march, Ostorius intends to strike hard against the Ordovices, and then turn south against the Silures. If it goes to plan, then Caratacus and his forces will be trapped between us, and crushed.’

Cato studied the map, and though the lack of knowledge about much of the terrain over which the Roman forces would march concerned him, he could see the sense of the governor’s strategy. He nodded. ‘Seems like a sound plan, sir.’