Cato looked back from the inner wall as flames engulfed the end of one of the nearby barrack blocks. He climbed down and strode over to Centurion Parmenion at the head of the troops held in reserve. Most of the soldiers were crouching nervously, waiting for the next incendiary missile to come over the wall, as Cato approached.

‘We have to deal with those fires before they get out of control. Take two centuries from the reserve, form them into fire parties and set them to it.’

‘Yes sir.’

As Parmenion sent his men off to fight the fires, Macro came up to check on Cato’s situation. He nodded towards the flames with a grim expression. ‘Reminds me of that fight we had with the Germans in that village close to the Rhine.’

‘I remember it well, sir.That was the first time I faced an enemy. I was an optio then.’

‘So you were.’ Macro reflected. ‘That was over three years ago. Seems longer. Much longer. Although it was you who set fire to the defences last time.’

‘And here we are, about to be burned out of our shelter once again.’

‘We’ll have to see about that.’ Macro nodded towards the inner wall. ‘How has it been? I saw the start of their attack from one of the towers.’

Cato recalled the earlier slaughter with a strained expression. ‘They got caught in front of the wall, as we’d hoped.’

‘Gave them a good hiding, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘And our side? Many casualties?’

‘Only a few.’

‘Good,’ Macro said with satisfaction. ‘I’m sure they’ll be back. Not quite so cocky next time, so you’ll have a fight on your hands.’

‘I imagine so. Have they tried any attacks on other walls?’

They were interrupted as a highly angled fire arrow clattered off the ground close by and shattered in a spray of brilliant sparks. Both officers instinctively flinched away, and then continued their conversation. Macro jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

‘There was a feint towards the east wall. Nothing serious, just an attempt to draw off men from this position.’

‘Here they come!’ a voice cried from the main wall.

Cato swung round, cupping a hand to his mouth. ‘To arms! Get on the wall! Fire parties, carry on!’

The auxiliaries on the fighting platform raised their shields, and held their javelins ready as they stared out at the dark mass of the gatehouse ruins.

‘I’ll join you,’ Macro muttered to Cato. ‘This is where the fight will be decided.’

‘We could certainly use you here, sir.’

Macro clapped him on the shoulder, and then bellowed to the auxiliaries around him. ‘Right! Let’s make ‘em regret that they ever decided to mix it with the Second Illyrian!’

07 The Eagle In the Sand

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT