A little apart from the others, Maximius sat with his back to his men and his officers, staring down towards the ford and the field of corpses beyond. Cato felt sorry for him, in spite of the harsh way the cohort commander had treated him in the short time they had served together. A ruined soldier, especially one as respected as a senior centurion, was indeed a pitiful sight, and if the inquiry did ruin Maximius he would be too old to achieve anything else in his life. In a few years he would take the meagre pension of a legionary and eke out his days in some veterans’ colony, drinking and reminiscing. A centurion’s retirement, by contrast, offered a chance for further service and advancement as a magistrate. At the moment Maximius had little prospect of such a future.

He shifted his gaze from the cohort commander, and looked down towards the inviting water of the river. Antonius was still being questioned, and once he was done it would be Felix’s turn. So there was time for Cato to have a swim. He stripped down to his tunic and turned to Macro.

‘Going for a swim. You coming?’

Macro paused in his work and looked up with an amused expression. ‘You, swim?’

‘Well, I’m getting better at it.’

‘Better at it? As opposed to not totally useless at it?’

Cato frowned. ‘Are you coming, or not?’

Macro carefully sheathed his sword.’I think I’d better come. Make sure you don’t get out of your depth.’

‘Ha - fucking - ha.’

As they set off towards the camp entrance nearest the river, Maximius called after them, ‘Make sure you’re not too long.’

Cato nodded and as he turned back Macro glanced at him and raised his eyebrows with a weary expression. ‘I sometimes wish we were back with those native lads in Calleva. That was nice simple soldiering with no bloody superiors looking over your shoulder the whole time.’

‘I seem to remember you saying you couldn’t wait to get back to serving with the legion?’

‘That was before this cock-up. Trust our bloody luck to get saddled with Maximius. I wouldn’t put him in charge of a soup kitchen.’

‘He seems competent enough to me. Harsh, too harsh sometimes. But he seems to know what he’s doing.’

‘What do you know about it?’ Macro shook his head. ‘Couple of months in the job and you still can’t tell what’s right from what’s shite. And look at the others. Tullius is getting on. Don’t know how he managed to keep up with you yesterday - guess he must be tougher than he looks,’ Macro conceded. ‘But Felix and Antonius are too young, too inexperienced for the job.’

‘Five and ten years older than me,’ Cato pointed out.