Macro did not blink. ‘Yes, I can imagine that might put the shits up some small kid on a dark night. But to me you look like a latrine brush.’
Stellanus frowned. ‘Sorry?’
Macro smiled. ‘The kind of thing I’d wipe my arse on.’
Stellanus’s brow creased and he fixed Macro with a glare, and then suddenly he grinned once again. ‘Ah, you’re a hard case. Let’s face it. Any man in the legions who lives long enough to command a cohort of his own has to be a hard case. You and I are cut from the same cloth, Macro. I was the commander of the Fourth before I volunteered to serve Quertus.’
‘So I understand.’ Macro casually reached over and took a fold of the other man’s dark cloak between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed it gently. ‘Somehow I doubt that we are cut from the same cloth. I wear the uniform of a Roman officer, not the rags of some barbarian dog.’
Stellanus pulled his cloak free and eased himself back out of reach. ‘There’s no call for that attitude, my friend. I just called in to welcome you to Bruccium. We need good men, now more than ever. Quertus says that the enemy is close to breaking point. Another month or two and they’ll be finished. So I welcome your arrival, and the prefect, and the column of replacements that are due to arrive. Fresh blood. Just what we need to teach those Silurian cunts a lesson.’
‘Sounds like they’ve been taught quite a few lessons already. Same goes for the men in the fort.’
Stellanus glanced at Severus who quickly looked down at his wine and kept his mouth shut. ‘It seems that someone has been telling you stories, Centurion Macro. The truth is that we do things a little differently around here. Some have difficulty in accepting that and they’d be wise to keep their opinions to themselves. However, once you see things for yourself and understand, then I am sure you’ll give Quertus your full support, like most of the rest of us. If not, then at least you’ll not put any obstacles in his way. That’s my advice.’
Macro forced himself to smile faintly. ‘For which I thank you, Stellanus. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I need to retire to my quarters, unpack and settle for the night. I want to be fresh for the inspection tomorrow, when the new prefect introduces himself to the garrison as their new commander.’
‘Ah yes. . Prefect Cato, commander of the fort at Bruccium. Fine titles indeed. But there’s more to a title than mere words, Macro. Let that be the first lesson of your new appointment, if you know what’s good for you. How well do you ride?’
The abrupt change in subject caught Macro by surprise. ‘As well as any legionary needs to,’ he replied awkwardly.
‘That’s good enough. Quertus could do with another good officer for the Thracian cohort.’
‘Then thank him for the offer. But for now I am in command of the Fourth Cohort of the Fourteenth Legion.’
Stellanus smiled coldly. ‘For now. .’
‘I intend to make the Fourth into the best cohort in the legion. Do me a favour, Stellanus. Tell the Romans that have joined Quertus that there is still a place for them here. At least until the replacement column arrives. After that, I’ll be sending a report back to Glevum to the effect that any legionary serving with the Thracians has surrendered the privileges, pay and bonuses that go with service in the legions. You might want to consider that offer for yourself.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘No?’ Macro stood up. ‘A pity. I was sure there was a decent Roman hiding under all that spectacular growth of stinking hair. Seems I was wrong. I bid you goodnight. . Thracian.’
Stellanus’s eyes narrowed beneath his heavy brow but he said nothing as Macro left the mess. Outside he drew a deep breath and strode towards the barracks at the end of the street. When he had landed in Britannia he had been excited by the prospect of returning to his career in the legions. It had felt like coming home, he mused. All the once familiar sights, sounds, smells and routine of life in the service of Rome. Now that he was here in Bruccium, that dream taunted him cruelly. Instead he found himself in the darkest of nightmares where death was a constant shadow mere inches from his back.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There was a storm during the night and rain slashed down on to the wood shingle tiles and gushed in torrents down the narrow streets between the barrack blocks. But it eased and then stopped just before dawn and the sun rose into a sky that was a patchwork of blue and scattered cloud. The garrison marched out on to the levelled ground below the fort and formed up in front of the mound of earth that served as the commander’s review stand. The ground was sodden and the boots and hoofs of the men and the cavalry mounts quickly turned the track leading from the gate into a quagmire. A handful of the stakes burdened by the heads had collapsed in to the mud and Quertus had set a small party to work putting them back up more securely.
Cato and Macro left the fort before Severus and the first century of legionaries marched out and made their way to the stand to watch proceedings closely. The legionaries, as was their privilege, formed up in their centuries, four ranks deep, at the centre of the parade ground. Even though he knew how few effectives remained in his new command, Macro felt a bitter disappointment as he looked out over the surviving pair of centuries. Their number made a mockery of the colour party where the six standards joined the cohort standard-bearer and the men carrying the curved brass horns over their shoulders.
By contrast, the Thracian cohort appeared to be at full strength and fielded ten squadrons of riders, forming five on each flank of the legionaries. The unit’s standard-bearer advanced his mount to the right of the line and unfurled a red banner with a black crow clutching a small skull in its claws. Cato’s force looked woefully unbalanced as it stood, formed up, in silence. The last man to reach the parade ground was Centurion Quertus. He rode down the length of the formation, sitting erect in his saddle and surveying them with a haughty air of ownership. Then he turned his horse and walked it slowly over to the review stand where he casually dismounted and handed the reins to an orderly before climbing the ramp.
‘Good of you to join us,’ said Macro as he stepped forward to the right of Cato.
The Thracian said nothing but took up his position on the prefect’s left and stood with his hands loosely clasped behind his back. A light breeze was blowing and it stirred the manes of the horses, the dark cloaks of the Thracians, the banner of the Blood Crows and the crests of the officers’ helmets.
Cato took out the leather tube and extracted the document authorising him to take command. After the conversation he had had with Quertus the previous night, and another with Macro before dawn, he felt anxious. If the Thracian centurion chose this moment to challenge him, in front of the men he had ruled for months with a rod of iron, then Cato had no illusions about his fate. If he was lucky he would be arrested and locked in the safe room below the headquarters. Accordingly he had decided to play it cautiously, until he had had a chance to establish himself at the fort; he would bide his time until he discovered Quertus’s weak point.
Cato unrolled the document and began to read.
‘I, Tiberius Claudius Drusus Germanicus, first citizen, chief priest, father of the nation, do hereby proclaim that Quintus Licinius Cato has been appointed Prefect of the Second Thracian Cavalry Cohort. The said Quintus Licinius Cato is entrusted to uphold the honour of the cohort, obey the officers placed over him, and swear to devote his life to the Emperor and the Senate and people of Rome.’ Cato paused to add emphasis to what followed. ‘This appointment is by imperial decree, and the officers and men over whom Quintus Licinius Cato has been placed in command are reminded that they are bound by the oath that they took on enlistment to obey those placed in authority over them as they would their Emperor, without question, upon pain of the full rigour of military law. By my hand I affirm this.’
Cato turned the document round and held it aloft so that all could see the imperial seal at the bottom. He waited a moment before lowering the authority, rolling it up again and placing it back in the leather tube. Then he surveyed the men before him for a moment before he began his address.
‘You know my name. You know my rank. And you may know that I have come from Rome to take up this command. But that is all you know. Some of you will have served under a number of different commanders. Most of them will have been the sons of wealthy and well-connected noble families in Rome. Some of your commanders may have worked their way up the ranks. I come from the second tradition. I joined the Second Legion while it
