‘They’re in!’ someone shouted. ‘The bastards have got into the depot!’

Over the heads of the dense mass of men blocking the gate, Cato looked through the arch and beyond the administration block, towards the grain dump at the rear of the depot. Beyond that, swarming over the rampart, came the Durotrigans. Several bodies in red tunics lay by the palisade and a handful of others were being cut down as they tried to stem the onrush. Already, some of the fainter-hearted of the legion’s noncombatants had thrown down their weapons and were fleeing back across the depot, desperate to escape the howling mass of enemy warriors, already spreading out across the parade ground, and racing towards the remaining defenders by the gate.

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Thirty-Three

‘If you know what’s good for you, you’d better let me see the legate right now.’ The stranger glared at the optio, who was standing between two legionaries. They looked like the kind of hardy veterans even the toughest criminals back in Rome would cross the street to avoid. Consequently the optio showed only the slightest concern in the face of the mud-stained individual in a filthy tunic who had presented himself at the camp gate as dusk closed in. The small measure of doubt was due to the stranger’s patrician accent. Only a small fortune could have paid for enunciation like that, unless, of course, the man was an actor.

‘Who do you think you are, mate?’ asked the optio.

‘All right then.’ The man spoke with elaborate calm. ‘I am Tribune Caius Quintillus.’

‘Don’t look much like a tribune to me.’

‘That’s because I’ve ridden through the night and today to get here.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s something of an emergency back at Calleva.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Yes. The garrison is under attack and I’d rather like the legate to know, so that he can send help to Centurion Macro.’

‘Macro? Oh, well, that’s different. If Macro’s in trouble you’d better come in.’ The optio turned to one of his men. ‘Take him to headquarters.’