‘Lower shields!’ Maximius called out, and all around the exhausted legionaries let their shields rest on the flattened grass as they leaned on them for support and struggled to catch their breath. Down the slope the Britons who had forced Macro and his men back across the ford and then dislodged the rest of the cohort, also rested on their shields. Both sides eyed each other warily for any sign of a renewed will to continue the fight. Neither was willing.

While there was a pause Cato crossed the interior of the formation to find Macro. The veteran centurion was holding out an arm to his optio. Blood welled up from a slash across the bulk of muscle on his forearm and dripped steadily on to the ground.

‘Not too serious,’ the optio was saying. He reached into his haversack, pulled out a roll of linen and began binding the wound as Macro looked up.

‘Ah, Cato!’ he grinned.’Seems I have another scar to tell tall tales about in retirement.’

‘Should you get so old.’ Cato grasped Macro’s spare hand. ‘Good to see you. I was afraid you’d be overwhelmed back at the crossing.’

‘We were,’ Macro said quietly. ‘If there’d been more of us there, we’d have held on.’

Cato glanced round, but Maximius had his back to them and was out of earshot. ‘Quite,’ he muttered, with a brief nod towards the cohort commander.

Macro leaned closer. ‘There’s going to be trouble over this. Watch yourself.’

‘Officers to me!’ Maximius called out.

They came walking over to Maximius, too weary to run. Besides Macro, Tullius and Felix were also wounded, the latter with a deep wound to the face. He was stanching the flow of blood with a bundle of linen that was already drenched. Cato saw the strained look on the cohort commander’s face and could guess at the inner turmoil that tormented the man. He had failed in his duty, and further down the slope the proof of his failure was marching right by him. Nothing short of a miracle could save his career from abject ruin now. Maximius cleared his throat

‘We’re safe for the moment. Suggestions?’ His voice was harsh and grating.

There was an embarrassed silence and only Macro was prepared to meet his eye.

‘Centurion?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Anything you want to say to me?’

‘No, sir.’ Macro shrugged. ‘It can wait.’

Cato looked down towards the ford.’We shouldn’t let them get away, sir.’

Maximius rounded on him angrily. ‘What do you propose? We charge down there and get stuck into them? Look at the state we’re in. How long do you think we’d last?’

‘Maybe long enough to make a difference, sir.’ Cato stiffened.

‘Whatever the cost?’ Maximius sneered, but Cato saw a trace of desperation in his expression.

‘That’s for others to say, afterwards, sir.’

‘And easy for you to say now!’