‘They’ve gone, sir. Escaped.’

‘Bollocks! How could they?’

The legionary shrugged helplessly. He had no idea, and couldn’t be expected to know the details.

Macro nodded. ‘Very well then. Carry on.’

‘Sir!’ The legionary saluted, then turned back towards his standard, slowly being waved from side to side in the distance, above the ridges of the line of tents. Macro watched him go, noting the difficulty the man had in making any speedy process over the glutinous mud that surrounded the tents. That was good. Anything that might slow down the pursuit of Cato and his men. Ducking back inside his tent Macro hurriedly laced on his boots and swept up his heavy cape. The folds of wool had only recently been greased and would keep most of the water out. Cato’s men had no such comfort and would be shivering in sodden tunics he realised, with a momentary pang of conscience. But there had been no time to grab anything more than the weapons, and that had been a big enough risk for him and Figulus to take. Cato would have to make do and be thankful that he was alive at least, Macro reflected as he strode off to join the men gathering around the standard.

Centurion Maximius came trotting up to join his officers, his cloak bundled under his arm.

‘What’s the alarm?’

Tullius, commanding the duty century, stiffened his back and stepped forward. ‘Prisoners have escaped, sir.’

‘Escaped?’ Maximius was astonished. ‘That’s not possible. Show me.’

Tullius turned towards the open area where the prisoners had been held, and his men stumbled back to clear a path for the officers. They marched up to the holding area and approached the two sentries that Figulus had knocked out. They were sitting on the ground, drinking from the canteens of the men who had set them free.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Maximius bawled out. ‘On your bloody feet!’

The two men clambered up stiffly and stood to attention with the other legionaries as the officers strode up to them. The cohort commander ignored them at first, casting his gaze on the flattened grass where the prisoners had been held. He took three quick paces, bent down and snatched up some severed lengths of leather from the ground, then glanced at them closely before holding them up for the other officers to see.

‘These have been cut.’

Macro swallowed and nodded. ‘Someone must have given them a hand.’

‘So it would seem.’ Maximius turned back towards the two sentries. ‘Vassus, what happened here?’

The older legionary stared straight ahead, not meeting the cohort commander’s gaze.

‘Well?’ Maximius said quietly. ‘Out with it.’

‘Sir, me and the lad here, we were surprised. They jumped us out of the darkness, like.’

‘They? How many were there?’

‘Two, sir!’ The younger sentry piped up. ‘Bloody big they were too.’

‘Did you recognise them?’