‘But there’s nothing that can be done. I know.’ Cato forced himself to smile.’We’re here because we’re here. Isn’t that what the old hands say?’

Macro nodded. ‘That’s right. But it only applies when the situation’s out of our control. This could’ve been prevented - should have been. Bloody general’s screwed up and he wants someone else to carry the blame. Bastard.’

‘Yes,’ Cato replied softly.’He’s a real bastard, all right . . . You ever seen a decimation carried out before?’

‘Twice. Both units deserved it,’ Macro recalled. ‘Ran, and left the rest of us in the shit. Nothing like this.’

‘Don’t suppose a decimation has ever been cancelled?’ Cato looked up, trying to keep his face expressionless. ‘I mean, have you ever heard of one being called off?’

For a moment Macro was tempted to lie. Any shred of comfort he could offer Cato might make the time he had left more bearable. But Macro knew he was a bad liar; he didn’t have the skill for such deception. Besides, he owed Cato the truth. That burden was what made friendships count. ‘No. Never.’

‘I see.’ Cato looked down. ‘You might have lied to me.’

Macro laughed, and patted Cato on the back. ‘Not to you, Cato. Not to you. Ask me for anything else, but not that.’

‘All right, then. Get me out of here.’

‘I can’t.’ Macro looked away, towards the river. ‘Sorry. Want me to find you some decent food? Wine?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Eat something. It’ll settle your guts.’

‘I’m not fucking hungry!’ Cato snapped and regretted it at once, knowing that Macro had only meant to offer him some comfort before the next dawn. It wasn’t Macro’s fault, and in a moment of intuitive understanding he realised that Macro would have had to screw up his moral courage to come and speak to his condemned friend. It was never going to be an easy discussion. Cato looked up. ‘Could use a flask of good wine, though.’

‘That’s the spirit!’ Macro clapped him on the back, and rose wearily to his feet. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Macro started to stride away from the condemned men.

‘Macro!’ Cato called after him, and the veteran looked back over his shoulder. Cato stared at him briefly, his tormented mind churning with dreadful fears. ‘Thanks.’