‘Yes, sir.’ The legionary saluted and turned away, running alongside the cohort back towards Centurion Tullius at the head of the column. Cato felt a stab of anxiety over the need to leave the cohort in the hands of the old officer. There had been no other way of handling things. It was risky enough removing Maximius from the scene. Any attempt by Macro or Cato to take charge of the cohort was doomed to failure, so Tullius it must be, if the men were not to have their credulity stretched too far.

As the tail end of the cohort crossed the brow of the hill Cato glanced ahead and saw the distant figures of Cordus and his men toiling away as they widened the ditch across the path that led right through the heart of the marsh. The acting centurion was wearing a red cloak to distinguish himself from his men, and Cato idly wondered if he had pilfered it from Macro’s stores, slipping into the centurion’s clothes as readily as he had assumed Macro’s command. It was an unworthy thought and Cato was angry at himself for giving it expression. Cordus was merely obeying orders. The fact that he took great satisfaction in obeying the cohort commander was immaterial, Cato told himself.

The newly arrived centuries were deployed either side of the track before they were ordered to down shields and javelins and head over to the cart to be issued with picks and shovels.

Their officers set them to work at once on the ditch and rampart.

‘Not your men, Cato,’ Tullius called out as the Sixth Century marched up. ‘I want you to advance ahead of the cohort. Take up position half a mile along the track. You may need to buy us time to finish the defences. As soon as you see the enemy, send a runner back to let me know.’

‘Yes, sir. How long should we hold them for?’

‘As long as you can. If we complete the work before Caratacus arrives I’ll send a runner to recall you. Then just leave a small picket and fall back here with the rest of your men. Understand?’

Cato nodded. Behind Tullius’ shoulder he saw Cordus striding over towards them. As soon as the acting centurion recognised Cato he faltered for an instant.

‘What the hell is he doing here?’

Tullius glanced round angrily. ‘Is that question addressed to me?’

Cordus tore his gaze away from Cato and then noticed Macro beyond, as his former centurion began to bellow orders to the legionaries of the Fourth Century. Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Cordus turned back to Tullius. ‘What’s going on here? Where’s Centurion Maximius, sir?’

Tullius nodded back in the direction of the fort.’He sent us ahead. Said he’d be along directly.’

‘Oh really?’ Cordus looked round at the other officers and caught the eye of Antonius. ‘Where’s Maximius?’