Even Macro could pick up the heavy helping of sarcasm. He immediately decided that Cato had to be defended, before Maximius settled on a mistaken judgement of the young centurion. First impressions were hard to shake, and the last thing Macro wanted to see was Cato handicapped by some veteran’s prejudice as he made a go of his first legionary command. The legionaries of the Sixth Century, he knew, were still bridling over the appointment of a centurion who was younger than all but a handful of the men. The situation was not helped by Cato’s choice of Figulus for optio. Figulus was only a few months older than his centurion, but at least he had the kind of physique that deters those in the ranks from insubordination. Figulus was safe enough, Macro realised. It was Cato who would be pressured to justify his rapid promotion. Macro knew that Cato, cursed by lack of self-confidence and by driving ambition in equal measure, would do anything to prove he deserved his advancement. Macro had seen the lad’s desperate courage on many occasions. Given half a chance Cato would prove Maximius wrong or die in the attempt. Unless Maximius knew that, and backed off from his snide treatment of his subordinate, then Cato would be a danger to himself.

Then Macro paused, mid-thought, as something more disturbing occurred to him. What if Maximius recognised that same flaw in Cato and decided to exploit it cruelly?

Macro cleared his throat, and spoke in what he hoped sounded like a light-hearted tone.’Sure he’s young, sir. But he’s learned the trade fast. And he’s got guts.’

‘Young!’ Maximius snorted. ‘I’ll say.’

The other centurions laughed and Macro forced himself to smile along with them as he steeled himself for another attempt to steer Maximius towards a more sensitive treatment of the cohort’s most junior centurion.

‘He’s just a bit touchy, sir.’ Macro smiled.’You know what it was like at that age.’

‘Yes I do. That’s precisely why boys should not be placed in command of men. They lack the necessary temperament, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘In most cases, yes, sir.’

‘In your case?’

Macro thought about this a moment and then nodded. ‘I suppose so. I could never have been a centurion at Cato’s age.’

‘Me neither,’ Maximius chuckled. ‘That’s why I’m not convinced by our young centurion.’

‘But Cato’s different.’

Maximius shrugged and turned his gaze along the track ahead of them. ‘We’ll see soon enough.’

The dust at the end of the column hung in the air and made the men’s mouths feel dry and gritty. That was why Cato’s men had slowly dropped back from the rear of the Fifth Century. He immediately ordered them forward and then kept them in the correct formation with the rest of the cohort, despite the undercurrent of muttered protest that greeted his command.