‘I see.’ Vitellius scratched his chin, as if in deep contemplation. ‘You’ll just have to hold them back, as long as you can.’

‘Yes sir… How’s the rest of the cohort?’

‘Our position’s not too bad. We control the wall and all able-bodied villagers are being kept under guard. Quadratus’s century got the worst of it. That bitch — the chief’s wife — opened an outflow grill. Twenty of them got behind Quadratus’s men before she was discovered. Just picking us off while the men were keeping the Germans outside the village away from the wall. Lost almost half the century before we flushed them out.’

‘You can rely on Quadratus, sir.’ Macro smiled.

‘Not any more, took a German pike in the guts. Went clean through him.’

‘No.’

‘Afraid so, centurion. And the Germans managed to take down his optio as well. That’s the reason why I’m here. Can you spare someone to take over from Quadratus?’

Five paces away Cato’s ears burned and his blood went ice cold in anxious anticipation. He summoned up all his will power not to look at Macro and instead gazed resolutely over the wall at the Germans gathered around the fires, their faces glowing red. Adopting what he hoped was the nonchalant pose of a veteran, Cato continued listening with a pounding heart.

‘Hmm.’ Macro pondered, looking around, and Cato could almost sense the weight of his gaze as it rested momentarily on his back before passing on.

‘What about your optio?’ Vitellius asked. ‘Is he a good man?’

‘Hardly a man, sir. Just a new boy. Can’t afford to let him out of my sight. He means well but he’s nowhere near ready for what you need.’

‘Pity.’

The crushing weight of rejection wrapped itself round Cato’s heart. He clamped his teeth tightly and fought back tears of humiliation.

‘You have anyone else?’

‘Yes, sir. The standard bearer’s a good man. Take him.’

‘All right then.’ Vitellius nodded. ‘You know the score, Centurion. Hold the gate at all costs. If we can get through the night Vespasian is bound to send help in the morning. I’m counting on you. Carry on.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Macro brought his hand to his chest in salute and then watched as the tribune and his bodyguard picked their way over to where the century’s standard drooped above the wall.

‘Wanker!’ he cursed softly. ‘I’m counting on you’ — as if Macro didn’t know his duty.

He cast a quick glance round to ensure the indiscretion had not been overheard. The stiff pose of the boy gazing fixedly over the walls was distinctly unnatural.

‘Cato!’

‘Sir?’ The voice sounded aggrieved.

‘Any sign of movement?’

‘No.’

‘Well, keep your eyes peeled.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The tribune and his small squad walked back to the gate along the wall, the standard bearer in tow. Vitellius nodded curtly at Macro as he and his men passed.

‘Take care, sir,’ said the standard bearer.

‘You too.’ Macro smiled. ‘We’ll look after the standard while you’re gone, Porcius.’