Senior Tribune Plinius filled his lungs and shouted the order. ‘Centurions … to the front!’

Outside the headquarters tents of the Second Legion the men of Maximius’ cohort stood in well-ordered ranks. They were made visible in the night by the wavering glare of scores of torches held aloft by the legionaries of the First Cohort assigned to guard them. Unlike their comrades Maximius’ men were not armed, they were not even permitted to wear their armour, only plain tunics. They were under judgement, and as such might soon be cast out of the camp as a punishment for their failure to hold the ford the day before. Some of the men looked terrified. As well they might, thought Cato as he marched over towards the senior tribune. They would be without shelter from the elements and without weapons to defend themselves against any enemy patrols that might want to take a few easy heads from the Roman invaders. For however long the punishment lasted.

Cato fell into line with the other centurions behind the tribune, and the escort formed up on either side.

‘Forward!’ called the tribune, and the party marched towards the entrance to the largest tent. The flaps were tied back and an orange-hued light spilled out from the oil-lamp stands inside. Through the flaps Cato could see that the clerks’ desks had been rearranged so that a long table was set against the rear of the tent, leaving an open space in front of it. A smaller arrangement of tables ran down one side and a number of clerks were already seated there, preparing their writing materials for keeping a record of the inquiry.

Tribune Plinius marched the centurions and their escort inside the tent and indicated that they were to stand in a line in front of the empty table. The escort formed up behind them, hands resting on the pommels of their swords. The clerks sat beside their tablets, styluses to hand, ready to begin. Then all was still and silent as they waited in the stuffy heat for the presiding officers to appear. Cato, who had never witnessed such an event before, was terrified but determined not to let it show as he stood stiff as his vine cane and stared directly ahead. As they waited, he let his glance slip to the side and saw that Felix’s fingers were clenching and unclenching into a fist, over and over again. He suddenly turned his head slightly and caught Cato’s eyes. Cato’s gaze flickered down momentarily and he gave a slight nod. Felix followed the direction indicated and looked surprised when he saw his hand moving, almost as if it belonged to another. He abruptly stopped the nervous tic and winked his gratitude to Cato before facing forward again. For his part, Cato was relieved to find someone who felt as nervous as he did.