Macro and Cato turned to look at Hortensius. His lips curled with contempt for an instant, before realisation of the cohort’s peril restored his self-control. The nearest men saw him swallow, stiffen his spine and then step out from the cohort’s ranks and stride confidently towards the Druids. As he watched, Cato felt a cold tingle of dread at the back of his neck. Surely Hortensius would not be so foolish as to risk ending up like Maxentius? Cato leaned forward, biting on his lip.

‘Easy, lad,’ Macro said in a low growl. ‘Hortensius knows what he’s about. So don’t let your feelings show — you’ll make the womenfolk nervous.’ He tipped his head towards the nearest men of the Sixth Century and those within earshot grinned. Cato blushed, and stood still, forcing all expression from his face as he watched Hortensius approach the Druids.

The senior centurion stopped a short distance from the horsemen and stood with his feet planted apart, his hand on the pommel of his sword. The two sides conversed, but the words were too faint to make out. The exchange was brief. The horsemen remained where they were while Hortensius moved back several paces, before slowly turning and making his way to the safety of the cohort. Once inside the wall of shields, he called for his officers. Macro and Cato trotted over to join the others, all of them burning to know what had passed between Hortensius and the dark Druids.

‘They say they’ll let us march on unhindered,’ Hortensius paused, and gave his officers a wry smile, ‘provided we set our prisoners free.’

‘Bollocks.’ Macro spat on the ground. ‘They must think we were born yesterday.’

‘My sentiments exactly. I told ‘em I might release their mates only when we were behind the walls of the Second Legion’s camp. They weren’t impressed with that, and suggested a compromise. That we free the prisoners once we’re in sight of the camp.’

The officers considered the offer, each weighing up the likelihood of the cohort being able to reach the camp, unencumbered by prisoners, before the Britons reneged on the deal and tried to cut them to pieces.

‘There’ll be plenty of chances to take more prisoners later in the campaign,’ one of the centurions suggested, and then stopped speaking as Hortensius laughed and shook his head.

‘That bastard Diomedes has stitched us up nicely!’

‘Sir?’

‘They don’t want that sorry lot over there!’ Hortensius jabbed his thumb towards the Britons squatting on the ground. ‘They’re talking about the Druids we took back at the settlement. The ones that little shit Diomedes killed.’

When The Eagle Hunts

Chapter Fifteen

‘Back to your units.’ Hortensius gave the order quietly. ‘Tell them to prepare to advance. As soon as I give the signal.’