He leaned back as Decimus lifted a bowl from his tray and set it down, along with a bronze spoon, in front of his commander. ‘They’ll be escorted back to Glevum. I’ll send four squadrons of the Thracians along with them to guard the prisoners. Quertus will be in command.’
Macro looked up from his bowl at his friend. ‘What makes you think he’ll go along with that?’
‘Because it’ll be an order. I’ll arrange it so that if he refuses, then he will have to do so in front of the entire garrison. Then we’ll see who the men obey.’
Macro sighed. ‘I hate to be the one to tell you, but the Thracians will back him, almost to a man.’
Cato nodded. ‘I expect you’re right. That’s why we’re waiting for the reinforcement column to turn up. Once your legionaries are up to strength I’ll have more than enough men to swing things our way. If I pick the right moment, Quertus will have to give in or fight against superior odds. He’s stepped over the line, but not so far that he can’t see a way back. I intend to give him a chance.’
Macro was silent for a moment before he replied in a strained voice, ‘For the love of all the gods, Cato, why? That bastard tried to have you killed.’
Cato folded his hands together and rested his chin on them as he considered his friend’s protest. Macro was right. The Thracian was dangerous, and driven by a madness Cato could barely understand. There was more to the extreme manner in which he waged war than simply the bloodthirsty proclivities of his race. He wanted revenge, consumed by the desire to destroy the Silures, right down to the last living creature that they possessed. And yet the effect on the enemy of the horror of the Thracian’s campaign — the heads, the rotting corpses and the burned-out remains of villages — had been impressive. They feared the men of the cohort. The very sight of the Blood Crow banner had sent them running for their lives. Perhaps fear was the very best of weapons, Cato mused. Nothing could stand before it, neither the best armour nor the highest of ramparts. Only courage of equal intensity stood any chance against a strategy based on instilling such terror as Quertus and his men inflicted. Terror then, the supreme tool of war. .
Part of Cato’s mind recoiled from this line of thought. The cool calculation of a moment before made him despise himself. He was not Quertus. He never could be. But at the same time he knew he was perfectly capable of such ruthlessness. The difference between himself and the Thracian was that he chose not to be ruthless. . Or perhaps that was merely the excuse he offered himself to justify his moral cowardice. He raised his eyes and looked at Macro, wondering if he should try to explain his doubts. As far as his friend was concerned, Quertus had condemned himself the moment he had tried to have Cato killed. Nothing else mattered. Macro was inclined to take a more direct route in his judgement of people.
‘If Quertus can be persuaded to leave Bruccium and escort the prisoners back to Glevum,’ Cato began, ‘then he will be out of the way while we take full control of the situation and make sure that he cannot try to resume control when he returns. If he does try, I’ll be able to play by the rules and have him arrested for insubordination, and even mutiny. Due legal process will be served.’
‘What the fuck is wrong with you, Cato?’ Macro groaned. ‘Where was due legal bloody process when he tried to stab you in the back, eh? When your enemy fights dirty, you do the same. Say the word, and I’ll stick a sword in the bastard’s guts and I won’t shed a fucking tear over the cunt. That’s my kind of due legal process.’
Cato was momentarily taken aback by his friend’s words. ‘Er. . Quite so.’
There was a brief silence in which Cato allowed his friend to simmer down a bit before he continued. Decimus took the chance to clear his throat. Cato glanced at him.
‘Might I go now, sir?’
Cato nodded. ‘Get yourself something to eat.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Decimus turned towards the door and was about to leave the room when Macro called to him.
‘Hey, Decimus, see if there’s any of that Silurian bread left in the officers’ stores. If there is, bring us a loaf each.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Decimus replied and left the office, shutting the latch quietly behind him.
Cato did not have much of an appetite, thanks to his concerns. ‘I’ll be fine with just the stew.’
‘Suit yourself. If you don’t want the bread, I’ll eat yours.’
Macro fell on his stew, slurping the steaming liquid from the spoon as Cato stirred his thoughtfully and then spoke again.
‘Macro, we must be careful. We have never been in a situation like this before.’
As he spoke, Cato recalled the march back from the Silurian village. He and Macro had made sure to stay within the column, day and night, always one watching while the other slept. Quertus had made one attempt on Cato’s life, and he was bound to have more men amongst his followers who were prepared to do his bidding and murder a superior officer. As soon as they had returned to the fort Cato had given orders for the headquarters guards to be drawn from the legionary cohort alone. Men that Centurion Severus had hand-picked for their trustworthiness.
‘Too right,’ Macro responded. ‘And I thought working for that slimy rat Narcissus was dangerous. The gods will have their fun with us.’
‘I wonder who is laughing. Macro, I’m serious. We’re in grave danger as long as Quertus remains here in the fort and challenges my authority. If we’re going to deal with him, we must do it one step at a time. Right now, we bide our time until the reinforcements turn up. Once they’re here, we can get things back to where they should be. Quertus will have little choice but to accept it.’
‘And what? We let bygones be bygones? Sir, he tried to kill you.’
‘What proof is there of that? Without proof what can I do?’
Macro opened his mouth to protest, then frowned, and shook his head. ‘Bollocks. Due legal process again, I take it.’
Cato nodded. ‘As things stand I cannot bring charges against Quertus. Not for the attempt on my life, nor for the murder of the previous prefect. Besides, there’s more to this than dealing with Quertus. You remember I mentioned that being here might have something to do with Pallas? That he might have wanted to send us someplace where there was a good chance we might be killed?’
Macro waved his spoon around. ‘You really think such a place is hard to find in this corner of the empire?’
‘We’re not in the empire. We’re well over the frontier of the province. Far enough from any help if we get into trouble. And we
The centurion sighed heavily. ‘This ain’t on, Cato. I thought we’d left all this sort of thing behind us. I thought we were going back to the legions to do some proper soldiering and leaving all the skulduggery to those with a taste for it.’ He shook his head, then took another, joyless, spoon of stew before muttering, ‘It ain’t on, I’m telling you.’
Cato could not help a wry smile. ‘Come now, did you ever think it would really be so simple?’
Decimus opened the door to the officers’ mess and peered round before he crossed the threshold. There was no one there due to the late hour and a fire was burning low in the hearth, providing a warm glow that lit up the modest room. He breathed a sigh of relief that he would not have to be in the same room as any of the officers of the Thracian cohort. He quickly shut the door behind him and crossed to the doorway leading through to the storeroom where the officers’ food was stored. General items were shelved on one side, with named shelves for each officer’s private stores opposite. Not that there was much left on any of the shelves, Decimus tutted to himself. There had been little of worth taken from the village, just a few roundels of goat’s cheese, some jugs of their sweet ale and the hard flat loaves of bread that tasted as unappetising as they looked. Decimus picked up two from the common stores and marked the wax slate hanging from a thong by the door. He heard the door open and close a moment later and swallowed anxiously as he emerged from the storeroom and saw the looming bulk of Centurion Quertus standing in front of the door. The glow from the fire cast a gently wavering shadow behind him and lit his dark features with a ruddy glow so that he looked even larger than he did in daylight. His eyes fixed
