Cato fixed the optio with his eyes. ‘We’re not taking him with us. We can’t afford to. He has to look after himself now, understand?’

‘It’s not right, sir,’ Figulus replied. ‘I’ll not be party to his death.’

‘He was dead anyway. You and Macro bought him a few more hours of life. I’ve made my decision, Optio. Now don’t question my orders again.’

Figulus returned his gaze in silence for a moment. ‘Orders? We’re not soldiers any more, sir. We’re deserters. What makes you think I have to obey-’

‘Shut your mouth!’ Cato snapped back at him. ‘You’ll do as I say, Optio! Whatever happens I’m still the ranking officer here. Don’t you forget it, or I’ll kill you where you stand.’

Figulus stared at him in astonishment, before he nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Of course.’

Cato realised that his heart was beating wildly and his fists were clenched. He must look like a complete fool, he chided himself. Exhaustion and the dread of being caught and dragged back to the camp and executed had worn his nerves to shreds. He had to be strong if he was going to survive this ordeal, and bring these men through it with him. He already had a plan half formed in his mind, albeit one that was wildly ambitious and optimistic. But then men clinging on to life, as if from a precipitous cliff, are wont to embrace even the most unrealistic chance of salvation. The metaphor had jumped into Cato’s mind and the idea that the hand of a god would pluck them all to safety almost made him laugh at himself with scorn. The temptation was almost irresistible and in that temptation he recognised the danger of a paralysing hysteria that would kill them all if he surrendered to it.

Cato rubbed his eyes and then squeezed his optio’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Figulus. I owe my life to you and Macro. We all do. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this mess. You don’t deserve it.’

‘It’s all right, sir. I understand,’ Figulus smiled weakly.’Truth is, I’m having a hard time coming to terms with it myself. If I’d known it’d work out like this . . . What are we going to do about him?’

‘We’ll leave him. He’s a dead man, and he knows it. We just have to be certain he goes down fighting, or makes sure he isn’t captured alive.’ Cato straightened up, clearing his throat. ‘You take the others on. I’ll have a word with him and follow you.’

‘A word?’ Figulus looked at him sharply.’Just a word, mind.’

‘You don’t trust me?’

‘Trust a centurion? After ending up in this situation? Don’t push your luck, sir.’

Cato smiled. ‘I’ve been pushing it ever since I joined the legion. Fortune hasn’t let me down yet.’