‘It’ll be dark soon.’ Macro looked at Cato. ‘We’d better get some torches lit. Somehow I don’t think Tincommius and his pals are going to give us an easy night.’

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Thirty-Five

A strange silence settled over Calleva once night had fallen. In the royal enclosure Macro had ordered most of the men to rest. After the enemy had pulled back Macro had thrown his men into constructing an inner redoubt around the entrance of the great hall. All the spare wagons and carts had been heaved together to form a small semi-circle backing on to the stout stone walls of the hall. Wicker baskets were filled with soil and crammed beneath the wagons to reinforce them and hold them in position, and benches were brought from inside the hall to provide the defenders with a breastwork to fight behind. If the outer wall fell, which it must, thanks to its being little more than a glorified fence, then everyone would retreat to this last redoubt, and after that a last stand inside the great hall, guarding the king’s bedchamber.

Once the work was complete Macro told his men to rest. They lay across the ground, dark shapes curled up by their weapons in the flickering glow of the torches that were ranged along the palisade. Verica’s household slaves had been sent to bring the exhausted defenders food and drink from the royal kitchen, and the king’s bodyguards were keeping watch for any signs of the enemy. Beyond the enclosure, the huddled mass of thatched roofs was silent, there were no cries for mercy, or the usual horrified shrieks that accompanied the fall of a town. Macro sat with his head cocked towards the burned-out remains of the town’s gate. The only noises that rose up in the distance were the periodic choruses of dogs barking, and once in a while a shouted order from the enemy.

After a while Macro gave up and nudged Cato, who had fallen asleep shortly before.

‘You hear anything?’

Cato struggled up on one elbow, blinking away the ache in his eyes, fearful that Macro had detected the approach of the enemy.

‘What? What is it?’

‘Shhh! Listen . . .’

Cato sat up and strained his ears, but all was quiet. ‘I can’t hear anything.’

‘That’s what I mean,’ said Macro. ‘There should be more noise. They’ve taken the town; they should be enjoying the spoils.’

Cato shook his head. ‘They’re trying to win the Atrebatans over. I doubt Tincommius is going to permit them even the smallest amount of rape and pillage. Not if he’s as bright as he needs to be.’

Macro looked at Cato, his features barely visible in the dark. ‘You admire him?’