This was too much for Macro. Much as he liked Cato, the lad’s constant pessimism could have a profoundly depressing and irritating effect on a generally cheerful soul like Macro, and he stepped in front of Cato, blocking the young centurion’s path. ‘Don’t you ever stop being defeatist?’ he snapped. ‘It’s really starting to get on my wick.’

Cato looked down into his superior’s face. ‘I’m so sorry, sir. Must be nerves.’

For an instant the older man tensed up, hands balling into fists at the end of his thick hairy forearms. Macro felt an overwhelming urge to knock some sense into Cato and get him to quit his grinding mood of depression. Then Macro relaxed his hands, slowly rested them on his hips and spoke very deliberately.

‘You know, I wonder if the tribune wasn’t right after all. If you get so riled by a few harsh words then maybe you’ve no place commanding grown-ups.’

Before Cato knew what he was doing his fist shot out and slammed into Macro’s jaw. The older centurion’s head snapped back and he staggered away from Cato. Macro recovered his balance and felt his jaw, raising his eyebrows as he saw blood on the palm of his hand from a split lip. He looked up at Cato, with a cold glint in his eyes.

‘You’ll pay for that.’

‘I - I’m sorry, Macro. I don’t know what I was thinking, what I was doing. I didn’t mean to-’

‘But it felt good, eh?’ Macro smiled faintly.

‘What?’

‘You feel any better?’

‘Better? No! I feel dreadful. Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. Hurts like hell, but I’ve had worse. But it took your mind of the bloody tribune for a moment there, didn’t it?’

‘Well, yes,’ Cato admitted, still feeling embarrassed by his loss of control. ‘Er, thank you.’

Macro waved his hand dismissively. ‘Come on, let’s get back to the depot. Forget the tribune, forget this bloody tribe of barbarians and let’s get some decent food inside us.’

‘Yes . . .’ Cato was still standing where Macro had stopped him. He was staring over Macro’s head, a faint look of concern in his expression.

‘Relax,’ Macro chuckled. ‘I’ll get you back sometime . . . What’s the matter?’

‘Look.’ Cato pointed towards the eastern sky, painted pale gold by the rising sun. Macro turned to follow the direction of Cato’s finger. Some miles distant several faint columns of smoke smudged the pale sky of the new day.

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Twenty-Six

‘Supply column?’ Cato muttered.

‘Looks like it.’

‘I didn’t know one was due.’