Decimus chuckled. ‘Like I said, sir. Not so bad. You get used to such things in Britannia. The worst of everything. Weather, wine and even the women are as rough as you’ll find anywhere in the whole empire. It’s a wonder that Claudius and his advisers think there’s anything good to be had out of the bloody place. If you ask me, we should never have invaded and left the barbarians to themselves. If they want to live in mud huts, worship bloody Druids and fight each other all the time, then let ’em. If the Emperor had given Britannia a miss then I’d still have a good leg.’

Macro stared hard at him. ‘And did I ask you? No. You knew the score when you signed up. You go where you’re sent and don’t stop to ask questions. You kill who you’re told to kill and that’s it. If the buggers get you first then that’s the risk you take. Otherwise, you might as well be some shirt-lifting ponce who spends his life reading philosophy.’ Macro shot a quick glance at Cato. ‘Present company excepted.’

‘Thank you, Macro,’ Cato responded testily before turning his attention back to the decurion. ‘How long have you served with the Fourteenth?’

‘Twenty years, sir. Come summer.’

‘And how long has the Thracian cavalry been serving with the Fourteenth?’

‘That lot? Seem to be something of a fixture, sir. As long as I’ve been with the legion.’

Cato smiled. ‘I’ve seen plenty of auxiliary units in my time. Some good, some bad. Never served with Thracian cavalry, though. So what are they like?’

The decurion sniffed. ‘They don’t stink, like some of them. Germans is worst. But at least with your Germans you know where you are. Them Thracians is different. Got a cruel streak in ’em, they have. Bloody good horsemen, though. Glad they’re on our side, is all.’

‘I see.’ Cato reached for the jar and topped up the decurion’s cup. ‘And what about Centurion Quertus?’

The decurion answered warily. ‘Can’t really say. The Thracians tend to keep to themselves. I’ve come across him on the parade field when we’ve been on training manoeuvres. He’s a big man. Built like a brick shithouse and has the guts to match.’

‘You have to be so careful what you eat,’ Macro chipped in.

Cato shot a frown at him before he spoke to the decurion again. ‘What else?’

‘Like I said. He’s brave and the men would follow him anywhere.’

‘Inspiring, then?’