Before Cato could ask any questions the surgeon had gone, his footsteps receding at a fast pace. Keeping his head still, Cato squinted at his surroundings. He seemed to be in a small cell with walls of timber and plaster. From the damp smell, the plaster must be quite fresh. In the corner sat a small chest. His armour, with its distinctive phalerae, lay on the ground beside the chest. Cato smiled at the sight of the medallions — he had been awarded those by Vespasian himself, after saving Macro’s life back in Germania… But where was Macro now? Then Cato remembered the terrible wound his centurion had suffered. Surely he must have died. But didn’t someone say he had survived? Cato tried to remember, but the effort defeated him. Someone slipped a hand under his head and gently raised it. Cato smelt the sweet, spicy vapour of the heated wine and parted his lips. The wine was not too hot, and Cato slowly drained the cup held in the medical orderly’s hand. The warmth spread out from his belly, through his body and he soon felt pleasantly sleepy as his head eased back onto the coarse material of the bolster. While his mind slowly drifted off, Cato, with a soldier’s delight in small luxuries, smiled at the fact that he had been given an entire room to himself. Wait until Macro found out.

When he next woke up, Cato was still lying on his front. He could hear the shouts and bustle of many men. The orderly had just changed the soiled bedding, and cleaned his patient. He smiled as Cato’s eyes flickered open and fixed on him.

‘Morning, sir.’

Cato’s tongue felt thick, and he nodded his head slightly to return the greeting.

‘You look much better today,’ continued the orderly. ‘Thought you was a goner when they brought you in, sir. Must’ve been a clean wound that Druid gave you.’

‘Yes,’ Cato replied, trying not to remember. ‘Where am I?’

The orderly frowned. ‘Here, sir. Here being the new hospital block in the new fort that’s been thrown up in Calleva. Quick work. Just hope it don’t fall down around our ears.’

‘Calleva,’ repeated Cato. That was days away from the hill fort. He must have been out for the entire journey. ‘What’s all the fuss?’

‘More casualties coming in from the legion. Seems the legate has turned over another of them hill forts. We’re out of space and the surgeon’s tearing his greasy hair out trying to reorganise things…’ The orderly’s voice trailed away.

‘And it would make my life a lot easier if my staff got on with their work instead of gossiping with the customers.’

‘Yes, sir. Excuse me, sir. I’ll be on me way.’ The orderly hurried from the room and the surgeon came round the bed to speak to Cato. He smiled his bedside smile.

‘You’re looking chipper!’