Macro nodded. ‘But we lost Severus, and a handful of others. Did you see?’
‘I saw.’ Cato’s gaze flicked briefly down at the causeway where the centurion’s headless corpse lay sprawled across the body of one of the Silurians killed by a javelin. Then he recalled his first duty in such a situation.
‘Give the order for the men to stand down. The Thracians can take the first turn on the wall. Have the wounded taken to the surgeon and rations issued to the rest. Oh, and let them know that I’m proud of them. We’ve made certain that the enemy will remember the garrison of Bruccium for the right reasons now. They know we can put up a decent fight as well as burn and massacre.’
Macro nodded, then paused before he turned to leave. ‘You sure you want to tell the lads that?’
Cato stroked his chin. ‘Perhaps not the last bit. Just tell them I’m proud of them. Proud to be their commander. That should put some fire in their hearts. . They’ll need it, when Caratacus comes for us again.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Dawn broke over a very different scene to the previous morning. Nothing remained of the haystacks except blackened piles of smouldering ash. There were scorched patches on the slope in front of the fort where some of the faggots had burned out and bundles of charred kindling where the rain had extinguished others. Bodies lay scattered along the ditch and below the wall. The enemy had taken their worst losses before the main gate where bodies covered the ground and much of the causeway, amongst which the shafts of javelins poked up at all angles like a carelessly used pincushion. As soon as there was light enough to see that the enemy had retreated as far as the parade ground, some two hundred paces away, Cato sent out a patrol to retrieve the still serviceable javelins from amongst the corpses. At the approach of a group of slingers, the patrol hurried back through the ruined gate into the shelter of the fort, with salvaged javelins bundled up under their arms. Another section had brought in the bodies of two legionaries who had been killed in the attack on the ram, as well as the corpse of Severus. His head had not been found. One of the natives had probably taken it as a trophy before retreating down the slope, Cato decided as he stood in the tower and surveyed the scene.
The enemy camp sprawled across the floor of the valley. They had not yet built themselves any shelters and slept in the open, around the fires they had struggled to light in the hours since the sun had risen. The rain had stopped but the ground and the branches of the trees were soaked and only those who had ventured far enough into the valley’s forests to penetrate the most sheltered parts had returned with readily combustible fuel. From the size of their camp, Cato roughly estimated their number at close to ten thousand, perhaps several hundred of whom were mounted, judging from the horses grazing along the floor of the valley.
‘Outnumbered at least twenty to one,’ Cato muttered to himself. ‘Even Macro wouldn’t bet on those odds.’
Casting his eyes over the terrain surrounding the fort, Cato could see small parties of men camped on the far bank of the river that curled around the high ground on which the fort was constructed. There would be no escape in that direction. It would take a courageous man to swim the fast-flowing river, dodging the rocks around which the water swirled. Even if it was possible to swim the river, there was the enemy to evade before any attempt could be made to escape from the valley and reach the nearest Roman outpost and raise the alarm. It would be a suicide mission, he decided. But it might yet be necessary to send a man, if the overcast did not lift. The heavy clouds hung low in the sky, obscuring the tops of the hills that lined the valley, thicker since dawn had broken and visibility seemed to be steadily reducing. It would be pointless to light the signal beacon. There was no chance of the smoke being sighted from Gobannium, or any other outpost. For the present the garrison was on its own.
Cato stifled a yawn, determined not to show that he was tired, and turned to the nearest sentry. ‘Let me know the moment the enemy makes a move.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The legionary saluted and turned his attention to Caratacus’s army as the fort’s commander descended the ladder into the gatehouse. At the bottom he saw that Macro was overseeing the blocking up of the passage between the smashed outer gate and the inner gate. The end of the nearest barrack block was being demolished and men were carrying the rubble across to the passage in wicker baskets and piling it up inside.
Macro nodded a greeting. ‘Soon be finished here. They’ll not get through that lot.’
‘Very good,’ Cato responded with satisfaction. That was one less weak point in the defences to worry about.
Macro lowered his voice as he continued, ‘Do you know the butcher’s bill yet?’
Cato sighed. A clerk had brought the report to him at the end of the first hour of the day. ‘Twelve dead, eighteen injured. Most of them downed by slingshot. We’re going to have to be careful not to expose ourselves on the wall unnecessarily from now on. It’s too much of a risk.’
‘What isn’t in this situation?’
‘True enough.’ Cato rubbed his brow and then saw Decimus, still in legionary kit, limping from the direction of headquarters, carrying a mess tin and a cup, stepping carefully around the puddles and mud. As the servant looked up and saw his commander, he hurried over.
‘Brought you something to eat, sir. Need to keep your strength up, so here’s stew and some posca.’
Cato took the mess tin gratefully, realising just how hungry he was after the night’s action. The stew was warmed through rather than hot and he spooned it down hurriedly.
Macro licked his lips. ‘Any more of that about?’
Decimus glanced at him. ‘All gone, I’m afraid, sir.’
‘I see.’ Macro tapped his nose. ‘I hope you enjoyed it as much as the prefect seems to.’
Decimus looked down awkwardly. ‘Seemed a shame to let it go cold, sir.’
‘I’m sure,’ Macro growled.
For a moment Decimus looked anxiously down at the ground, before he summoned up the nerve to speak. ‘Sir, is there any hope of us getting out of this alive?’
Cato chewed on a morsel of meat and then swallowed. ‘There’s always hope.’
Decimus’s shoulders sank and he nodded in a resigned fashion.
Cato was watching the expressions of the men passing by as he finished his snatched meal. They looked tired, but grimly determined. There were even some who were engaged in cheerful exchanges with their companions. This early success had boosted their morale. But that was hardly necessary. These men were legionaries, hardened professionals, used to hardship and danger and imbued with a firm sense of tradition and the need to uphold the honour of their legion. They would play their part well enough. It was the auxiliaries who concerned Cato. Their morale was more uncertain, a problem exacerbated by the excesses of Centurion Quertus. Although their ranks had been leavened by those legionaries transferred in from the other cohort of the garrison, Cato sensed that their morale was more brittle. They were used to patrolling and raiding the enemy’s territory. This kind of static, stand-up fight required firm resolve. Both units were bound to be tested to the limit in the days to come.
As if anticipating his thoughts, he saw Quertus approaching him along the open ground behind the wall.
‘Here’s trouble,’ said Macro.
‘Not necessarily.’
‘With him, necessarily, I’d say.’
Cato drew himself up to his full height as the Thracian approached and nodded an informal salute to his superior. ‘A tough night, sir. But we gave them a hiding and sent ’em packing.’
‘Oh really?’ Macro scratched the stubble on his jaw. ‘You think we’ve won then?’
‘For now. They won’t dare to make another frontal assault in a hurry,’ Quertus asserted confidently. ‘Not now we’ve proved, once again, that they should be afraid of us.’
Macro glanced at Cato and cocked an eyebrow. ‘Heroes all, eh?’
Cato ignored the comment and addressed the Thracian. ‘I take it you have something to report?’
‘Yes, sir. My horses. We’ve got oats to feed them for a few days as you know, but they’ll need watering.’
