The soldier puffed out his cheeks in relief, nodded and turned away, hurrying after his comrades as they drove the brigands back. Macro closed his eyes and wiped the grit from his face on the back of a hairy forearm, then looked around.The men from the fort were chasing after the surviving brigands, thrusting at them and their mounts with spears. On the ground close to Macro lay the bodies of three of the brigands, and the decurion.The latter lay sprawled on his back, eyes staring up at the sun, mouth hanging open. A sword blade had opened his throat to the spine and the ground about him was drenched with blood.

‘Poor bastard . . .’ Macro mumbled, before he realised that the decurion had sacrificed himself to save the man he had been charged with escorting safely to Bushir. ‘Poor brave bastard,’ Macro corrected himself.

‘Who are you?’ a voice demanded.

Macro turned and saw an officer approaching him. At the sight of the plumed feathers in the man’s helmet crest, Macro instinctively stiffened to attention before what he assumed was a superior.

‘Centurion Macro!’ he snapped, and saluted.

The officer saluted back, then frowned. ‘Mind explaining what’s going on, sir?’

‘Sir?’ Then it dawned on Macro that the officer was a centurion like himself, and only a freshly minted one at that. He regarded the man anew. ‘Who are you?’

‘Centurion Gaius Larius Postumus, adjutant at the fort, sir.’

‘Where’s Scrofa?’

‘Prefect Scrofa? He’s in the fort, sir. Sent me out to cover your force.’

‘Leads from the front, eh?’ Macro couldn’t help sneering for a moment. ‘Never mind. I’ve been sent to take command of the Second Illyrian.These men are my escort. We were ambushed several miles back.’

Macro glanced round and saw that the fight was over. Most of the brigands had pulled back and were staring silently at the fort from a small rise some distance away. The officers of the Illyrian troops had recalled their men and were forming them up beside the survivors of the cavalry squadron.Two of their men lifted the decurion off the ground and gently placed his body across the saddle of his horse before leading it towards the gate. Macro shook his head. It had been a close thing. But even though he had escaped this time he didn’t suppose that Bannus would abandon his design on Macro’s life. And Cato’s.At that thought Macro stared back along the track.

‘Sir?’ Postumus tilted his head and looked questioningly at Macro. ‘Anything the matter?’

‘Yes. My friend’s out there. We need to go and find him as soon as possible. I want you to give orders for the cavalry contingent to mount up.’

‘With respect, sir, that is a decision for Prefect Scrofa to make.’

Macro rounded on the man. ‘I told you. I’m in command now.’

‘Not until the appointment has been properly authenticated, sir.’