‘Caratacus. He’s on his way here with what’s left of his forces. He intends to wipe you -’ Cato smiled - ‘us - he intends to wipe us out.’

Beyond Tullius, Cato caught sight of the optio scrabbling to a halt as a figure strode round the corner of a line of tents. Maximius thrust the man to one side and bellowed down to the men at the gate.

‘What the hell is going on? Centurion Tullius! What are those bloody beggars doing in my fort? We’re not a hostel for vagrants!’

Tullius turned round and snapped to attention. ‘Beg to report, sir. It’s Centurion Cato, and one of his men.’

‘Cato?’ Maximius faltered a moment, and then continued forward as he stared at Cato in frank astonishment. Then as he confirmed the centurion’s identity for himself Maximius smiled with cruel relish. He stood before Cato, hands on hips and head slightly cocked as he appraised the pair of men before him. His nose wrinkled.

‘You stink.’

‘Sir, I have to tell you-’

‘Shut up!’ Maximius screamed back.’Shut your mouth, you disgusting piece of shit! One more word and I’ll cut your throat.’

He turned to Tullius. ‘Throw ‘em in the latrine ditch and post a guard!’

Tullius’ eyebrows rose. ‘Sir?’

‘You heard me! Carry out my order.’

‘But, sir, Centurion Cato came here to warn us.’

‘Centurion Cato?’ Maximius stabbed his finger into Tullius’ chest.’He’s no centurion. Got that? He’s a condemned man. A dead man. Don’t ever refer to him by that rank again. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Tullius replied quietly. ‘But the warning?’

Maximius clenched his fists as the blood drained from his face. ‘Carry out my orders! If you don’t want to end up like Macro, then fucking move yourself!’

Tullius shrank back. ‘Yes, sir. At once, sir.’

The old centurion turned and snapped out his orders to the section that had escorted Cato and Nepos inside the fort, and now stood at attention to one side. At once the two fugitives were grasped by the arms and rapidly marched away from the gate towards the far corner of the fort. Cato twisted his head round.

‘Sir, for pity’s sake, hear me out!’

‘Centurion!’ Maximius spat. ‘Silence that prisoner!’

‘Caratacus is coming!’ Cato managed to get out before Tullius jumped towards him and slapped him hard across the jaw. For a moment Cato was dazed by the blow, then he tasted blood and felt his mouth fill up with a thick gout. He dropped his head to one side and spat it out, before he shouted out one last warning.

‘Don’t-’

Tullius raised his fist.

‘All right,’ Cato mumbled. ‘All right. What did he mean about Macro?’

Tullius looked over his shoulder, and saw that Maximius was taking the sentries to task, bawling out a diatribe against sloppy watch-keeping. Tullius turned back to Cato.

‘Macro’s under arrest.’