Macro gave him a droll look and then turned his attention back to Cato as the surgeon left the stable. For a moment neither man spoke, then Macro cleared his throat self-consciously. ‘I suppose I should thank you.’

‘Thank me?’

Macro frowned. ‘Of course. You saved me from that spear.’

‘I did?’

‘You don’t remember it then?’

Cato closed his eyes briefly and then shook his head.

‘All right,’ said Macro eagerly. ‘Forget about it. I’d better go. The legate will want to know what to do next. You stay here and rest, eh?’

He turned and strode across to the entrance to the stable.

‘Macro . . .’ Cato called weakly.

The centurion turned and looked back.

‘Whatever I did, you’d have done the same for me,’ Cato said. ‘If you’d been standing in my place.’

‘True, but I wouldn’t have ended up here.’ Macro chuckled. ‘I’m not lanky like you. If I’d pushed you aside, the bloody spear would have missed me by a mile. Now do as the surgeon said and get some rest.’ He left the stable and gestured to Hamedes to follow him.

The legate was sitting on a crude table outside the ruins of a peasant’s hut when Macro found him. His staff officers and the centurions from Macro’s cohort and the auxiliaries were gathered about him in the loom cast by an oil lamp, waiting. Another of the legion’s surgeons had just finished suturing a small gash on the legate’s forearm and began to apply a dressing as Aurelius addressed Macro over the surgeon’s shoulder.

‘Good of you to finally join us.’

‘I was seeing to the senior tribune, sir,’ Macro replied with a hint of bitterness. ‘He was struck by a spear during the attack.’

‘How bad is the wound?’ Aurelius asked with a trace of anxiety.

‘He was lucky, sir. The tribune’s a bit battered but he’ll recover.’

‘Good, we need every man.’ Aurelius nodded down towards the dressing being tied round his arm. ‘I took a wound myself. An arrow tore open my arm.’

The surgeon glanced up with a surprised expression and shook his head as he finished tying off the ends of the dressing. He straightened up and stood off a respectful distance. ‘It’s only a flesh wound, sir. But I’d advise you to keep it clean all the same.’

Aurelius nodded and waved the surgeon away. He smiled warmly at Macro. ‘A bloody business that first attack, eh? I came forward to watch your progress from the breach. That’s when I was wounded.’

He gestured proudly at the dressing with his other hand. Macro did not miss the tone of elation in his voice - the elation of a man who has finally received his first wound after many years of peaceful service without the least chance to prove himself as a soldier.