Neither Macro nor Cato spoke as they watched the first of the makeshift crosses raised into position, and lowered heavily into the post hole that had been dug for the base. There was an audible thud and the forceful impact caused one of the prisoner’s wrists to tear loose so that his mangled arm dropped and he gave a piercing shriek. The enemy were not fazed by the incident. One of them calmly set a siege ladder up against the rear of the cross, climbed up, reached over the beam to grasp the torn arm and nailed it back into place. Fortunately the torment of the prisoner was such that he passed out after the first few blows, to the relief of his comrades watching in horror from the walls of the fort. The respite was short-lived, however, as one by one the other prisoners were raised up until a line of crosses extended some distance in front of the surviving onager.

Cato felt a bitter acid taste in his mouth as he swallowed. ‘That’s what’ll be in store for any of us they take alive, I imagine.’

‘Yes,’ Macro replied softly. ‘Bannus is trying to get the wind up our boys.’

‘Then I think he’s succeeded.’ Cato glanced along the wall and saw one of the auxiliaries bent over, vomiting on to the catwalk.

‘Of course,’ Macro continued flatly, ‘there’s a nice ironic touch there for his own side. After all the rebels we’ve crucified over recent years, now we’re on the receiving end. Listen to ‘em! They just love it.’

As the last cross rose up the enemy cheered loudly, and then their tone quickly changed to cruel laughter and derisive taunts and jeering as their victims writhed in agony and blood ran down beneath their arms and stained their bare chests bright red.

‘They’ve had their fun,’ Macro growled. ‘Now it’s our turn. Archers!’ He turned to the men on the wall. In amongst them were sections of men armed with compound bows.’Archers! Shoot on that crowd! Shoot, damn you!’

His obvious rage spurred the men into action. After hastily stringing their bows, the fastest of them notched their arrows, drew back the strings and angled the shafts high before releasing them. The first, ragged volley fell into the crowd, taking down a handful of the enemy before they could scatter and run for cover. More were struck down as the arrows fell with increased intensity. Then a shaft struck one of the Romans on the crosses, burying itself in his throat, so that he jerked, struggled a moment and then hung limp and quite still.

‘They’re hitting our men!’ Cato said in a horrified tone. ‘Stop them!’

‘No.’ Macro shook his head. ‘That’s what I’d hoped for.’

Cato turned and stared. ‘What?’

Macro ignored him and turned to shout to the archers. ‘That’s it, boys! Keep it up! Stick it to ‘em!’