wall?’
‘I–I am not sure, sir.’
Macro’s patience snapped. ‘Either you did or you didn’t. Which is it?’
‘I thought I heard voices, sir.’ The optio glanced from Cato to Macro and back to the prefect.
Quertus laughed. ‘The fool’s imagining things. The river’s high. I’ve known men mistake the sound of a fast current flowing over the rocks for something else, and their imaginations do the rest. It’s nothing. Optio, go back to your duty and discipline your sentry. Perhaps a week cleaning out your shit in the latrine will cure him of his nerves.’
‘Wait,’ Cato interrupted. ‘You seem very sure of yourself, Centurion.’
‘Why shouldn’t I be? The Silurians are too frightened to show their faces in this valley. There’s been no sign of them anywhere near the fort in months. Your man is jumping at shadows. I thought legionaries were made of tougher stuff.’
Macro bristled. ‘There’s no better fighting man than a legionary. You’d do well to remember that, Thracian.’
‘Maybe, but there are clearly better sentries. Optio, tell your man to pull himself together and stop being a coward.’
‘That’s a word too far,’ Macro growled, taking a step towards Quertus as his hand slipped down towards the handle of his sword. ‘You bloody take that back or I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat you’ll be shitting them for the next month.’
Quertus stood up and stared down at Macro with an amused smile twisting his lips. But there was a deadly coldness in his eyes that made Cato scared for the life of his friend. He stepped between them before the confrontation could go any further and addressed the optio, still standing nervously by the door. ‘Optio, this fort is the furthest we have pushed into the enemy’s territory. That means we don’t take any chances. If you, or any of your men, even think there is any danger it is to be reported at once. Have you given the word for Severus’s century to be called out?’
The junior officer shook his head. ‘No, sir.’
Cato felt a sick feeling in his heart. It was too late to castigate the optio now. That would only cause further delay. ‘Then do it now. I want Severus and his men on the wall at once. But tell him to do it quietly. Go.’
The optio dashed out, relieved to escape from the stern gaze of his commander. Cato turned to the other officers in the room. ‘It’s probably nothing, like you say, Quertus, but I’ll take no risks over the fort’s safety. Let’s see what’s happening for ourselves.’ Cato paused and gestured towards the prisoner, still hanging by his arms from the iron hook in the beam. ‘You men, return the prisoner to his cell.’
Outside, the fort was still and quiet and only the cool breeze brushed between the buildings. The sky was mostly clear and sprinkled with stars. A waxing moon was dimly visible behind a bank of ghostly silver cloud but would not provide much illumination for a while yet. Cato paused to listen briefly but there was no sound of the alarm being raised, and no sound of anything ominous from outside the fort. He allowed his spirits to rise for a moment as he led the other two officers towards the main gate that gave out on to the slope sweeping down towards the parade ground in the valley. He made himself walk at an unhurried pace in order to appear as cool- headed as possible in front of the Thracian. As they reached the gate they heard Severus issuing orders in a muted tone and the dull thud of boots as the legionaries hurried from their barrack block and made for their stations on the wall. The gatehouse was a timber and turf construction and a small brazier a short distance from the watchroom provided warmth and illumination for those on duty. The officers entered the gatehouse and climbed the ladder that gave out on to the platform above the gate. Stout pine posts formed the breastwork and the sentry on duty turned towards the officers and stood to attention, grounding his javelin.
‘You’re the one who reported movement?’ Cato asked brusquely.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Make your report then.’
The sentry nodded and turned back to the breastwork and leaned his javelin against his shoulder as he gestured into the darkness beyond the defensive ditch. ‘Down there, sir. I heard voices in the direction of the parade ground, and I saw someone moving.’
‘You saw someone? You’re sure of that?’
The sentry hesitated a moment and then committed himself. ‘Yes, sir. It was definitely a man, crouched in the grass a short distance beyond the ditch.’
Quertus gave a dismissive snort as he leaned on the wooden rail running along the top of the breastwork and stared into the darkness. ‘I can’t see or hear anything. . How long ago was it when you think you saw something?’
‘Just before I told the optio, sir.’
‘And nothing since then?’
‘No, sir,’ the legionary admitted.
Quertus tutted and turned to Cato. In the faint loom of the starlight Cato could see the sneer on the Thracian’s face. ‘Seems like I was right, after all. . sir.’
Cato did not respond but stepped up to the breastwork and strained his eyes and ears as he stared down towards the parade ground. Beyond the ditch the ground seemed to merge into a dark mass; he could only just make out the dim outlines of the haystacks and only because he knew they were there. Macro stepped up beside him and was silent for a moment as he, too, searched for signs of danger.
‘What do you think, sir?’
Cato looked round as he heard the sounds of the legionaries deploying along the wall on either side of the gatehouse. Even though they had been ordered to stand to as quietly as possible, the thud of nailed boots on the wooden walkway and the dull clink and clatter of kit seemed very loud in the still night. Cato was torn between the need for caution and the fear of making himself look foolish in front of Quertus for calling Severus and his men out on the whim of a sentry. He glanced at the legionary and could make out his grim features. He was in his thirties and had the stern, lined face of a veteran. Not the kind of man to raise the alarm without good cause, Cato decided. He turned back to Macro.
‘I can’t see anything. But this man has and we’ll keep the men at their posts until first light.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Macro replied in a relieved tone. ‘What about the other century? And the Thracians?’
‘You’d rouse my men just because of a nervous sentry?’ Quertus shook his head.
‘They are my men, Centurion,’ Cato said firmly. ‘Every man in this fort is under my command. Including you. I’ll thank you to remember that.’
Quertus was silent for a moment before he shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘As you wish. Though it is my duty to advise you that I know the men, the fort, and this valley far better than you, and I say there is nothing out there. The enemy are too cowardly to dare show their faces in front of Bruccium. A tendency that seems to be spreading to some in our own ranks, it seems.’
The remark was addressed at the sentry but the veteran did not show any sign of reacting to the insult.
‘Your advice is noted, Centurion,’ Cato said curtly. He turned to Macro. He had made his decision. ‘Pass the word for the rest of the garrison to stand to.’
Macro nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
He crossed to the ladder and clambered down before trotting off towards the barrack blocks. Cato turned to the sentry. ‘Give us some privacy, soldier.’
The veteran lifted his shield and moved to the opposite corner of the gatehouse platform. Once he was sure the man was out of earshot, Cato rounded on the Thracian.
‘I will not have you question my orders again.’
‘As I said, I was offering advice.’
‘There’s a world of difference between offering advice and the insolent, insubordinate comments you have grown accustomed to. That comes to an end now.’ Cato spoke softly through gritted teeth, his face no more than a foot away from the Thracian’s. Despite his earlier intention to play his hand carefully, something had snapped inside him and a cold, ruthless anger flowed through his veins. ‘I have seen all I need to see of the fort, the men, the officers and the way you have been waging your campaign against the enemy. This is not the way of Rome. This is not the way of the Roman army. This is not my way. I am in command here and my orders will be obeyed
