If he pushed the men hard, Vespasian calculated that they might reach Calleva by the end of the next day. There might be a hard fight after the march for his tired men, but they were legionaries, trained to a superb level of fitness. Tired or not, they would be more than a match for a few thousand Durotrigans.

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Thirty-Four

‘How the hell . . .?’ Cato muttered.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Macro snapped back at him. ‘We have to get out of here.’

‘Get out of here?’ Cato looked at him in astonishment. ‘And go where?’

‘Royal enclosure. It’s all that’s left now.’

‘But what about our injured?’ Cato waved at the hospital block. ‘We can’t leave them.’

‘There’s nothing we can do for those lads,’ Macro said firmly. ‘Nothing. Now get your cohort formed up. Close ranks and follow right behind my century.’

Macro steered Cato towards the survivors of the Wolf Cohort and then called his men to attention. ‘Close ranks. Form column of fours in front of the gate. Move!’

As the legionaries ran forward and jostled into formation, Cato began to shout out his orders in Celtic. Driven on by the shouts of the section leaders the two units formed up on the track behind the gate, and closed ranks until they became a compact column, shield to shield along the front and left side. Macro looked round for Figulus.

‘Optio! Since you’re so bloody keen on hanging back, you’ve got command of the rearguard. Take two sections. Keep ‘em tight and don’t let one of the bastards get by you.’

‘Yes, sir!’ Figulus trotted back to take up position.

As soon as he saw that the formation was ready, Macro pushed his way through into the front rank.

‘Column!’ He called out the preparatory order, and waited until he heard Cato repeat it to his natives, then: ‘Advance!’

The shields, helmets and javelin tips rippled forward, and the tramp of iron-shod boots echoed under the tower as the legionaries moved forward. Behind them came the Wolves, lighter-armoured, and not quite able to march in step with their legionary comrades. Cato had positioned himself near the rear of his men, and looked back at the Durotrigans, running at full tilt towards the legionary rearguard formed up across the inside of the depot gate. There was no need to issue an order to loose javelins: the men hurled the weapons as soon as the enemy were within close range, and several of them were struck down, pierced through by the heavy iron points. But the instant their bodies fell to the ground they disappeared from sight as the men behind surged on, desperate to hurl themselves upon the small column edging up the street in the direction of the royal enclosure.