Macro glanced down to hide his anger at the accusation they could have been so easily gulled.

‘But what if he was telling the truth, sir?’ Cato persisted. ‘We’d be caught here in Calleva and cut to pieces. Verica would be killed, Tincommius placed on the throne and the Atrebatans would change sides.’

Vespasian gave him a stony look. ‘A commander of a legion does not let himself be ruled by hysterical hypotheses. I want proof.’

He looked closely at the two centurions. ‘You two need rest more than anyone else - you and your men. I order you to get some sleep right away.’

It was a cheap and crude way to end the discussion, but Vespasian had made his decision and would no longer brook any questioning of it. But still Cato made one last effort as Macro saluted and turned to quit his commander’s presence.

‘Sir, the price of sleep now may be defeat and death tomorrow.’

Vespasian, who had not slept for over two days himself, was fractious, and snapped irritably back at his subordinate, ‘Centurion! It is not for you to question my orders!’ He raised his finger threateningly. ‘One more word from you, and I’ll have you reduced to the ranks. Now get out of here.’

Cato saluted, turned away and marched stiffly to catch up with Macro as they headed back to where their men were resting outside the redoubt. Most were asleep, curled up on their sides, heads pillowed on their bent arms.

‘Not very bright of you,’ Macro said quietly.

‘You heard Tincommius - why didn’t you back me up?’

Macro drew a deep breath to stave off his irritation with the younger officer. ‘When a legate makes a decision, you don’t question it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you don’t fucking do it. All right?’

‘I’ll let you know this time tomorrow.’

Cato slumped down beside Mandrax, who was snoring loudly, propped up against a wheel with the standard planted firmly in the ground beside him. Macro remained silent as he carried on walking towards the pitifully small cluster of sleeping men that were all that remained of his first independent command.

Just before he turned on to his side and promptly fell asleep Macro remembered Tincommius’ shouted warning that Caratacus was bearing down on Calleva. The Atrebatan prince might have been telling the truth . . . Well, they would know soon enough. Right now, sleep was the thing. A moment later, a deep rumbling snore added to the chorus of other sounds of slumber.