‘Take it!’ Macro whispered fiercely. ‘Pick the bloody thing up! You’ll need it.’

The legionary turned away, curled into a ball, and started moaning, rising to a shrill keening sound. Macro quickly looked over his shoulder towards the glistening lines of tents, but there was no movement there. He turned back to the man on the ground and savagely swung his boot between the legionary’s shoulder blades. The man stiffened and cried out. At once Macro kneeled over him, snatching up the sword that lay on the muddy ground. He pressed the tip into the flesh under the man’s chin.

‘Shut it! One more sound and it’ll be the last thing you do.’

The legionary jerked his head back, eyes wide with panic as his hands scrabbled for purchase on the ground as he tried to get away from Macro.

‘Keep still!’ the centurion hissed furiously. ‘Keep still!’

‘Leave him, sir!’ Cato whispered. ‘Just leave him.’

Macro glared at the man for a moment and then eased himself up into a standing position, turning towards Cato. ‘He can’t be left behind. He might tell them that I was involved. You’ll have to take him.’

Cato nodded, and Macro quietly sheathed his sword. ‘Get him up then.’

‘Sir, you’d better get out of here.’

‘As soon as you’re away. Come on, let’s head for the palisade.’

‘But that’ll bring us out opposite the main camp.’

‘Better than having to pick your way across our tent lines. You’re bound to be noticed, especially with this worthless piece of shit.’ Macro jabbed his toe into the man whimpering at their feet. Cato looked down and for a moment took pity on the man racked by terror. He reached over and gently shook the legionary’s shoulder.

‘What’s your name, soldier?’

The man turned his head towards the voice and Cato caught a dim glimpse of jagged teeth in a coarsely shaped mouth. ‘Proculus . . . Proculus Secundus.’

‘You call me “sir” when we talk, Proculus. Understand?’

‘Y-yes, sir.’

‘You have to get on your feet.’ Cato spoke in a low voice, trying to inject as much iron into his words as possible. ‘We’re not leaving anyone behind to die. Now, up.’

He firmly pulled the man’s forearm and helped him to his feet, handing Proculus the sword Macro had dropped by his side a moment ago. ‘There. Now hold it steady . . . Better?’

‘Yes, sir. I guess so.’

‘Good.’ Cato patted the heavily muscled shoulder. ‘Now let’s go.’

The newly liberated men rose up from the ground and followed Macro as the centurion padded over the ground towards the rampart. Cato glanced left and right, but saw no sign of anyone along the length of the small rampart.

Macro pointed to the base of the rampart. ‘You should be able to get over the palisade and ditch without anyone noticing. Anyone in this camp, at least.’