As soon as Cato had caught his breath he heaved the man on to his side, placed a boot on his back beside the sword handle, and wrenched the blade free. It came out with a fresh gush of blood and Cato immediately pulled himself on to the bank and crept downstream, away from the enemy and roughly in the direction of Calleva. The Durotrigans would notice the riderless horse soon enough and come to investigate. He had briefly considered trying to mount the animal himself, but could not trust himself to do it well. Besides, he was a poor rider while the Durotrigans were experts, and they would run him down long before he got the beast anywhere near the gates of Calleva. So he moved downstream as swiftly and quietly as he could, ears straining for any sign that the body had been detected and the enemy were giving chase. A quarter of a mile later Cato realised he was trembling. He knew he was too tired to go on. He must hide and rest a while; recover some strength and then move on towards the safety of the town.

Safe? Calleva? He chided himself. The cohorts had been destroyed. The only thing standing between the Durotrigans and the Atrebatans were the handful of legionaries serving the depot and Verica’s bodyguard. The moment the enemy realised that, Calleva would be at their mercy. He had to get back, gather the survivors up and try to save the town. Then he thought of Macro and Tincommius. Had either of them made it? Were they dead, somewhere out there in the long grass? Food for the carrion birds already spiralling overhead in the late morning sunshine.

Cautiously moving round a bend in the stream Cato came across a fallen tree, wrenched up from the ground years before by some wild storm. The soil round the base of the tree had been pulled up, and badgers had dug themselves a sett amongst the tangle of dead roots. Cato pressed himself into the narrow entrance and hurriedly used his sword to loosen the soil above him. Clods of earth tumbled over the hole, gradually filling it and burying the centurion under a shallow layer of soil. He would be revealed the moment anyone made a close inspection of the twisting roots, but it was the best he could do. He lay still, watching the stream through the small gap he had left, and waited for the long hot day to end.

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Twenty-Seven