‘What then?’ Cato asked.

‘What do you think?’ Macro smiled thinly as he stamped his feet. ‘They’ll be all over us, we won’t have a chance. We’ll be cut to pieces.’

‘Keep still please, sir. Will they take prisoners?’

‘Best not even think about that,’ Macro said gently. ‘Believe me, you’d be better off dead.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘The tribune said Vespasian would send help as soon as he realised something was up. If we can hold out until then…’

‘Big if,’ Macro replied. ‘But we might. Just make sure you do your bit.’

‘I will.’ Cato tore off the excess from the rough dressing and tied the ends firmly. ‘There you go, sir. How’s it feel?’

‘Not bad.’ Macro flexed his arm, and winced as a shaft of pain stabbed up to his shoulder. ‘It’ll do. No worse than I’ve already had.’

‘You’ve been injured before then, sir?’

‘All part of the deal when you join the army. You’ll soon get used to it.’

‘If we survive.’

‘We might yet.’ Macro tried to sound reassuring and then, seeing the gloomy expression on the youngster’s face, he punched him on the shoulder. ‘Chin up lad! We’re not dead yet. Not by a long way. But if we do go, well then, there’s not a lot we can do about it, so we might as well not worry, eh? Now then, let’s see what those bastards are up to.’

A quick inspection of the German lines in the gathering gloom of the snowflake-speckled dusk revealed no significant changes and the dull thuds of axe blows on wood continued unceasingly. Satisfied that the village was safe for the moment, Macro turned back towards Cato.

‘Just going to have a word with the rest of the lads. Keep them cheerful. While I’m about it, I want you to take a couple of men and see if you can find something to eat and drink. I’m hungry. Might as well have something while we wait for Herman to stir.’

===OO=OOO=OO===

A quick search through the nearest huts produced a good haul of dried meat, fresh bread and several jars of the local brew.

‘Go easy on that stuff,’ Macro warned, speaking from bitter experience. ‘Make sure no-one gets a skinful or they’ll be up on charges when we get back to base.’

Cato looked over the centurion’s shoulder. ‘Sir! The tribune…’

Vitellius and a bodyguard of four burly men emerged from the darkened street and mounted the ramp to the gate. Macro stiffened and was about to call the century to attention but Vitellius shook his head.

‘Let the men rest, Centurion. They’ve earned it.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’

‘How goes it?’

‘Well, as you can see,’ Macro swept an arm out to indicate the ring of Germans surrounding the village, ‘we’re not going to be able to hold that lot off with seventy men, sir. They’ve been making faggots and assault ladders ever since the last attack. And over there, they’ve nearly finished a battering ram. Once they bring that up…’