‘He knows that, sir. But the army is the only family Cato has got. Without us, he’s nothing. He’d do anything to earn his place back in the legion. That’s why I’m sure he’s out there in the marsh somewhere, biding his time and waiting for the right opportunity. Why, he’s probably watching us right now … And he wouldn’t be the only one, sir. Look there!’

Macro nodded down towards the nearest farmstead. A small number of figures were looking towards the fort from behind some low hayricks barely a quarter of a mile away. The distant figures just watched and made no movement.

‘Want me to send out a patrol to scare ‘em off, sir?’

‘No.’ Maximius stared hard at the farmers. ‘That can wait until tomorrow. In the meantime let the locals spread word of our arrival, and let them sweat. We want to generate all the fear and anxiety we can.’

The next morning the cohort broke camp and marched down the valley. Macro was aware of being watched every step of the way. Occasionally he would glance round and catch sight of a face disappearing behind a tree, or dropping out of sight amid one of the fields of crops they passed by. His long years of experience had given him a good eye for the ground and he scrutinised any good sites for an ambush as they marched along. But there was no ambush, not one act of defiant hostility as the legionaries tramped along through the peaceful valley.

After an hour’s steady marching the column followed the track around the forest and turned up the slope of the small hillock Maximius had chosen for their camp. To their left, across the stream, on a gentle rise, sprawled a large village comprised of the usual round huts, together with smaller structures for stables and storage. Smoke eddied gently from the vents of a number of the huts. A few figures moved on the palisade that surrounded the village and Macro noted that the gates were closed.

‘Officers on me!’ Maximius bellowed.

When all his centurions and optios had gathered the cohort commander removed his helmet, mopped his brow with the felt liner and began his briefing. The rest of the men began work on the area marked out for the camp by the surveyors. A screen of sentries spread out around the crown of the hill, while their comrades began to swing their pickaxes, breaking up the ground for the ditch and rampart.

‘Tullius!’

‘Sir?’

‘I want an extra ditch dug around the camp. Make sure that the ground between the ditches is sown with caltrops. Have some Lilies dug into the ground as well.’

Tullius nodded approvingly. The small pits with sharpened stakes at their centre would be a useful additional defence.

‘Yes, sir. I’ll pass the word to the surveyor.’