‘Yes, sir.’ Cato saluted and glanced along the palisade towards the thin line of men that stretched out towards the redoubt where he could see Macro smiling as he did the rounds of his men, giving them a slap of encouragement on the shoulder as he passed by. He caught sight of Cato and flashed him a brief thumbs-up. Cato nodded, and turned his mind to his immediate duty. He saw a number of legionaries sprawled along the line of the palisade. They would be a hazard to have underfoot when the next attack came.

‘Get those bodies off the rampart!’

There was no sense of ceremony as his men heaved their comrades’ corpses down the slope, limbs flopping loosely as they tumbled. As soon as the task was complete Cato ordered them to stand to and his men faced the enemy, swords drawn. As he walked down the line Cato was pleased to see that there was no sign of fear in their expressions, just the resigned determination of seasoned veterans. They would hold their position and fight until they were cut down, or the enemy gave way. Cato was pleased by their composure, but the pleasure was tinged with regret. If only Vespasian and General Plautius could see them now. The shame of decimation was behind them, and they would sell their lives like heroes. Unless the legate arrived in time the only witnesses to their valour would be the enemy. And the native warriors were so insanely intent on obliterating the cohort that they would be insensible to the courage of the Romans. Cato smiled to himself. It was a strange thing, this life in the legions. Two years he had served under the Eagles, and yet each battle always felt like the first and last. He wondered if he would ever become accustomed to the peculiar intensity of sensation that went with every battle.

‘Man approaching!’

The voice was distant, and Cato could not place the direction at first. Then, as he saw heads turn to glance back behind the wall, he followed suit and saw the lookout Macro had posted waving his arm to attract attention and then point back towards the column of smoke that marked the site of the fort. No one moved. One man represented no threat, just a source of curiosity, and they waited for further information about the approaching figure.

The lookout turned his back to them for a while and then called out, ‘One of ours!’

An icy tingle of dread rippled up Cato’s spine. Supposing it was Maximius? Or Felix? Their arrival would result in his death just as surely as an enemy sword-thrust. Then he angrily told himself that such a fear was wholly baseless. He already knew who that man must be, long before he ran over the brow of the hill and staggered down towards the rampart.