Macro and Cato exchanged looks, which was instantly detected by Maximius. ‘I’m sure my new centurions will be relieved to know that I won’t be keeping them too long, and wasting their precious time.’

Cato coloured.

Maximius regarded the youth coldly for a moment before his face creased into a smile. ‘Just make sure you’re both in my tent before the first change of watch is sounded.’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Cato and Macro.

Maximius gave a sharp nod, turned on his heel and strode stiffly from the briefing tent.

Macro’s eyes followed their commander.’Now what was all that about?’

The nearest of the centurions drew back, glancing warily at Maximius until the cohort commander had disappeared through the tent flaps. Then he spoke quietly to Macro and Cato.

‘I’d play it carefully, if I were you two.’

‘Carefully?’ Macro frowned. ‘What are you talking about, Tullius?’

Caius Tullius was the most senior of the Third Cohort’s centurions after Maximius; a veteran of over twenty years and several campaigns. Although he was reserved in manner, he had been the first to greet Macro and Cato when they had been appointed to the Third Cohort. The other two centurions, Caius Pollius Felix and Tiberius Antonius, had said no more than necessary to Cato as yet, and he sensed hostility in their attitude. Macro was more fortunate. They already knew him from the time before his promotion, and treated him in a cordial manner, as they must, given that Macro’s appointment to the centurionate predated their own.

‘Tullius?’ Macro prompted.

For a moment Tullius hesitated, mouth open as he seemed to be on the verge of saying something. Then he just shook his head. ‘It’s nothing. Just try not to get on the wrong side of Maximius. Especially you, young ‘un.’

Cato’s lips compressed into a tight line, and Macro couldn’t help laughing.

‘Don’t be so touchy, Cato. Centurion you may be, but you’ll have to forgive people if they mistake you for a boy sometimes.’

‘Boys don’t get to wear these,’ Cato snapped back, and tapped his medallions, instantly regretting the immature need to prove himself.

Macro raised both his hands with a placating smirk. ‘All right! I’m sorry. But look around, Cato. See anyone else here that’s within five years of your age? I think you’ll find that you’re a bit of an exception.’

‘Exception he may be,’ Tullius added quietly, ‘but he’d do well not to stand out, if he knows what’s good for him.’

The veteran turned away and followed Felix and Antonius towards the entrance to the tent. Macro watched him go and scratched his chin.

‘Wonder what he meant?’

‘Can’t you guess?’ Cato muttered bitterly.’Seems our cohort commander thinks I’m not up to the job.’