Cato opened his mouth, closed it again and nodded.

‘Now then, Cato, what was that all about? That stuff you were spouting about comrades?’

‘I just thought, given the current tensions in Calleva, that we should play up the fact that the Boars and the Wolves were raised to serve Verica.’

‘That’s what we tell them,’ Macro agreed. ‘But any idiot can see that they’re really just another two auxiliary cohorts serving Rome.’

‘Be careful who you say that to. I wouldn’t repeat it in front of the likes of Artax.’

‘Or that youngster Tincommius!’ Macro snapped back. ‘Although I can see he’s taken you in . . . Look here, I’m not a complete fool, Cato. But at the end of the day, we trained them, armed them and fed them. That makes ‘em ours.’

‘I doubt that’s how most of them see it.’

‘Then they’re fools. Now, stop worrying about it.’

‘And if someone like Artax takes exception to being given his orders by a Roman?’

‘Well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes,’ Macro concluded impatiently. ‘Now, I’ve got a pile of records to audit, and you’ve got training duties.’

But Cato was looking over his shoulder towards the depot gates. A small party of horsemen had just ridden in from Calleva. They were led by a tall figure in a scarlet cloak riding a beautifully groomed black horse. Macro turned round to see what his subordinate was gazing at. One of the horsemen kicked his heels in and trotted his mount over towards the two centurions.

‘Your eyes are better than mine. Who’s that over at the gate?’

‘No idea,’ replied Cato. ‘Never seen him before.’

‘We’ll know soon enough.’ Macro nodded towards the horseman, who reined his beast in a short distance from the two officers and slid smoothly from its back. The man quickly glanced over the centurions and snapped a salute at Macro.

‘Sir! Tribune Quintillus presents his compliments and desires the presence of the commanding officer of the depot at once.’

‘Who exactly is this Tribune Quintillus?’ Macro cocked his head towards the gateway.

‘From headquarters, sir. On the general’s orders. If you’d attend the tribune at your earliest convenience, sir . . .?’

‘Yes,’ Macro growled. ‘Of course.’

The horseman saluted, slid back on to his mount and trotted back towards his superior.

Macro exchanged a quick glance with Cato and spat on to the ground. ‘What the bloody hell is that tribune doing on my patch?’

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Eighteen

‘You’ve done a fine job,’ Tribune Quintillus smiled. ‘Both of you.’

Macro shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, while Cato smiled modestly. The tribune, encouraged by the younger centurion’s response at least, continued pouring on the praise in his silky aristocratic accent.

‘General Plautius is delighted with the report that you submitted.’