Cato was surprised at how calmly he accepted the prospect of his imminent death. He had thought there would be more to fear. He had been terrified that fear would paralyse him and unman him at the very end. But for now all that concerned Cato was defying Tincommius and the Durotrigans for as long as possible.

The narrow street suddenly opened out on to a wider thoroughfare that Cato recognised as the main route leading from the gate towards the royal enclosure. Several men from his cohort ran past and he and Mandrax joined them. A little further on a street branched off towards the depot and they turned into it and saw that the way ahead was filled with legionaries and native troops also streaming towards the depot. Nearly all still carried their shields and weapons, Cato noted with pride. Despite the appearance of a rout the men were falling back and once in their new position they would be armed and ready to turn on their enemy once more. Amongst them were the last few legionaries returning from the gates of Calleva.

‘Anyone seen Macro?’ Cato called out. One of the legionaries turned towards him, and Cato pointed at the man. ‘You there! Where’s Macro?’

‘Dunno, sir. Last I saw, he was with a few lads defending the gate.’

‘You left him there?’

‘He told us to go!’ the legionary replied angrily. ‘Said he’d follow on, sir.’

‘Right . . . Get inside and form up with the others.’

Cato looked down the street that led to the main gate. Two figures burst round the side of a native hut a hundred paces away. Figulus, taller and leaner, had a short lead over Macro, whose thick, muscular legs pumped hard as he struggled to keep up. Moments later they drew up beside Cato and bent over as they gasped for breath.

‘You all right?’ asked Cato.

Macro looked up, chest heaving. His face was blackened and the hairs on his arms and legs were singed. The sharp tang of burned hair still clung to him and Cato made a face.

‘You should see the other man . . .’ Macro chuckled and then burst into a raucous cough. He doubled up for a moment, and then as the coughing fit ended he looked round at Figulus.

‘Nearly forgot . . . You’re on a charge, sunshine. Disobey an order again . . . and I’ll have you flogged.’

‘Yes, sir. I was only-’

A distant roar of voices sounded from beyond the depot gate.

Something was wrong. The entrance to the depot was filled with men trying to force their way out of the gate and up the street and the two opposed flows of humanity melded into a hopeless tangle. Cries of anger and desperation rose from the throng.

Cato pushed his way forwards. ‘Silence! Silence there!’ he roared out. Most tongues were stilled as faces turned towards him.

‘What’s going on? Somebody make a report!’