At the sight of Macro and Cato the children ran over to the two centurions who had defeated the Durotrigans and crowded round them, babbling away in their singsong Celtic.

‘All right! All right!’ Macro grinned as he raised his hands. ‘See? I’ve got nothing for you. Nothing!’

Cato’s grim expression had deterred all but the most thick-skinned of the children and he glared at the others who finally got the point and turned their attention to Macro.

‘Why so glum? Hey, Cato!’

Cato looked round. ‘Glum?’

‘You look like someone who just lost a bloody fight, not won it! Come on, lad. Join the celebrations.’

‘I will, later.’

‘Later? What’s wrong with now?’

‘Sir.’ Cato nodded down at the children.

One of the urchins, more daring than the others, was fiddling with the fastening of one of the silver medallions on Macro’s harness.

‘Why, you little bastard!’ Macro cuffed the boy heavily on the ear. ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re up to, sunshine? All of you! You’ve had your fun, now piss off!’

He swept them away with broad strokes of his arm, sending several sprawling on the street with a shrill chorus of shrieks and screams. The others kept out of the centurion’s reach and giggled as he made a wild face at them. ‘Grrrrr! Get out of here before the big bad Roman eats you all for his supper.’

When the children continued to dog his footsteps Macro’s tiredness soon won out over his good spirits, and he turned and drew his sword. At the sight of the glinting blade the Atrebatan children fled screaming into the narrow alleys between the huts.

‘That’s better.’ Macro nodded with satisfaction. ‘Though they don’t give up easily, that lot.’

‘Blame it on the parents,’ Cato smiled humourlessly. ‘The speed the general’s campaign is going, I shouldn’t be surprised if those children are old enough to fight the Durotrigans before we’re through. Or fight us.’

Macro stopped and looked at his junior centurion. ‘You really are in a shitty mood, aren’t you?’

Cato shrugged. ‘Only thinking. That’s all. Just ignore me.’

‘Thinking?’ Macro raised his eyebrows, then shook his head sadly. ‘Like all things, there’s a time and a place for that, my boy. We should be celebrating, like our lads. You, particularly.’

Cato raised his eyebrows. ‘Me?’

‘You’ve proved the quacks wrong. A few weeks ago they were all for giving you a medical discharge. If only they could have seen you in action! So let’s celebrate. In fact, the moment we’ve seen these wagons safely inside the depot, you and me are going to have a drink. My treat.’