‘Sir?’

Macro turned his head as he crunched along the frozen track. ‘What is it, boy?’

‘How far exactly is this village, sir?’

‘You mean, how much further through this forest?’ Macro smiled.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘A few miles before the track clears the trees, then we should reach the village by noon. Don’t worry about this place, it’s harmless enough.’

‘But if we should be attacked…’

‘Attacked?’ Macro scoffed. ‘Who by? Not the poor sods we’re visiting. Bunch of simple-minded farmers. And your nearest German war-band is well to the other side of the Rhine. So relax, boy, you’re making the women nervous.’ Macro jerked a thumb back at the legionaries of the Sixth century and those in earshot jeered loudly. Cato blushed and merely tried to pull his neck in as far as possible while keeping a close eye on the silvan shadows.

Once the initial oppressive spell of the forest had worn off, the soldiers stopped talking in hushed tones and the column wound its way through the trees accompanied by the usual loud banter of marching soldiers as they swapped jokes and exchanged insults. The deep boughs swallowed up much of the noise and what was left sounded flat and strange to their ears.

At last the column pulled free of the forest and marched out into a bright winter morning as an unobscured sun bathed the land in a warm glow. This side of the forest had been cleared and the cohort passed through primitive farmland dotted with the grim little peat huts of local German settlers, each one marked by a thin trail of smoke reaching up to clear sky. Most of the farmers had taken in their grazing animals and steam clung about the low outbuildings from which the lowing of cattle and the squealing of pigs could be heard as the soldiers passed. There were few signs of human life, the odd face at a door silently watching the column chinkling along the track, but nothing more.

‘Friendly lot, aren’t they?’ the standard bearer commented.

‘They don’t seem much bothered by us,’ Cato replied. ‘I’d have thought they’d be a bit more interested. It’s not what I imagined the Germans would be like.’

‘What did you think they’d be like?’

‘Big and aggressive — that’s what we heard in Rome.’

‘That’s exactly what they are like when you’re fighting them,’ the standard bearer said with feeling. ‘But these are just farmers. They’re like all civilians when an army passes by. Just keeping their noses clean and hoping we don’t have any cause to pay them any attention. Behind that door’ — the standard bearer nodded towards a hut they were passing — ‘and behind every door sits a family praying we don’t stop. Soldiers are bad news for their kind.’

From the head of the column came the shouted order for the cohort to halt and each centurion instantly relayed it to his command. The men stood, silently waiting for the next instruction.