‘They must be scouting ahead of Caratacus’ army. He’s sent them to check the fords.’

‘Why attack the fort?’

‘Because they might have spotted the scouting force. Maybe Caratacus didn’t want anyone left alive to make any report on his movements.’

‘Why kill them like they did? Why did they do that then?’

‘They’re barbarians,’ Cato shrugged. ‘They can’t help themselves.’

‘Bollocks! They’re murderers . . . butchers! That’s all. And now they’ll pay for it.’

‘Sir,’ Macro intervened, ‘what about our orders?’

Maximius ignored him and turned towards the column, filling his lungs. ‘Cohort! Prepare to advance!’

‘If we leave the ford uncovered and Caratacus makes for it-’

Maximius turned to him with a forced smile. ‘Macro, there’s time enough to deal with our friends and then secure the ford. Trust me.’

‘But the entrenching tools are in the fort, sir.’

‘We can return for those afterwards . . .’

‘If we have to come back for them-’

‘Damn you, Macro!’ Maximius shouted, hands balling into fists. ‘Take your century, then. Get the bloody tools and I’ll see you at the ford.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Cohort!’ Maximius raised his arm and then swept it forward. ‘Advance!’

‘Third Century!’ Macro shouted. ‘Fall out of line!’

Macro’s men shuffled off the track and the rest of the cohort followed Centurion Maximius as he quick marched across the slope towards the Tamesis. With a brief glance at the back of the cohort commander Macro grasped Cato by the arm.

‘Look here. Things are turning to shit. Maximius has lost it. If he tries anything that puts you and the rest of the lads in any danger . . .’

Cato nodded slowly. ‘I’ll do what I have to, if it comes to that. See you at the ford.’

‘Right. Watch yourself, lad.’

‘I always do.’ Cato made himself smile, then turned towards his men.

Macro watched his friend drop into line alongside Figulus, then the Sixth Century tramped by and as the rear of the last rank moved off round the hill Macro ordered his men up the slope. Apart from the steady chink and jingle of the men’s equipment the only sound was the raw grating cry of the crows fighting over the fresh corpses in the fort.

05 The Eagles Prey

CHAPTER NINE