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‘Your ten men are all that I have to do the work of a cohort,’ Macro continued. ‘We still need to mount patrols of the surrounding area. The difference now is that you’re going to have to behave like the prey rather than the hunter. I want you to lead each patrol in person, and take five men with you. The others will stay here in case I need to send a message to Viroconium in a hurry. When you are out in the hills, stay out of sight of the locals. On no account are you to get into any kind of contact with the enemy, no matter how tempting. I cannot afford to lose a single trooper. I just want you to observe and report back. Understood?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Pandarus nodded and then pursed his lips. ‘Are we really expecting trouble, sir? The enemy will have their hands full dealing with Quintatus.’

‘You should know how it goes by now, Optio. You’ve been here long enough. Every time the army pushes forward, it needs to disperse its troops to garrison the territory we’ve gained. That keeps things under control as long as the enemy does not concentrate its forces so they are strong enough to pick off our outposts. If they do mass their warriors, then we have to pull our forces together to confront them, and that means stripping out every available man from forts like this. Which makes us vulnerable. I hope you’re right about the legate, but I’m not taking any risks. If the enemy intends to give us a kicking, then I want to be warned about it in good time.’ He looked at the optio frankly. ‘You are the eyes and ears of the garrison, Pandarus.’

‘You can count on me, sir.’

‘I didn’t doubt it. Pick the best of your men to ride with you, and make sure they know the score. I don’t want heroes, I want information. Starting from tomorrow, you will conduct a daily sweep of the hills to the west. Any settlement you encounter, or any band of hunters or armed men, take down their number and location and report back.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘That’s all. You’re dismissed . . . Wait! One more thing.’

‘Sir?

‘I’ll need a servant.’ Macro patted his thigh. ‘While I’m getting over this bastard wound. One of yours will do. Who can you spare?’

The optio thought quickly. ‘Bortamis, sir. He’s the strongest of us, but also the largest, and he’ll slow me down. He’ll be remaining at the fort.’

‘Bortamis, then. You’d better tell him the good news. I’ll need him first thing in the morning. He’s to bring his kit and use the storeroom of the main hall. You can go.’

They swapped a salute and Pandarus left the office. Macro eased himself back and gently rubbed the dressing above his knee. It itched badly, but the surgeon had told him not to worry it for fear of reopening the wound. So he had to content himself with gentle pressure that only seemed to make it worse.

‘Fuck . . .’ he growled bitterly as he allowed himself to dwell on his situation. ‘Sitting here nursemaiding those soft Illyrian slackers while the army goes off to fight. It ain’t right. It ain’t right at all.’ He cleared his throat and spat into the corner of the room. ‘I bet Cato’s having a right old time of it.’

CHAPTER NINE

Cato sat hunched in his saddle, trying to take advantage of what little warmth remained in his body. His tunic and cloak were soaked through, and the rain pinged relentlessly off his helmet, all but drowning out the harsh hiss of the downfall around him. Behind him stretched the mounted squadrons of the Blood Crows, and behind them the infantry, men and horses alike drenched by the icy rain and sleet that had beset the army from the first day of the advance. The rough track that they had followed into the hills had become a sucking quagmire the moment the first hundred men had churned it up, and the baggage train required the constant assistance of the escorting troops to keep the wheels of the heavy wagons turning. Instead of the anticipated eighteen miles a day, they had been managing no more than half that since they had set out from Mediolanum, at the price of exhausting the men so that they took far longer than usual to erect a marching camp each night.

Even though the vanguard had been spared most of the physical effort of the advance over such terrible ground, they still had the strain of scouting ahead of the army and ensuring that Quintatus and his men did not march into any ambushes or suffer the harassing raids that had been a favourite tactic in slowing down the advance of Rome’s legions. For the first five days, there had been only occasional sightings of the enemy: distant groups of horsemen watching the struggling column from the hilltops. They turned and disappeared the moment Cato sent one of his squadrons forward, and their light ponies and knowledge of the hills and forests meant that they slipped away long before any contact could be made.

But this day the enemy had decided to make a stand. The valley along which the army had been advancing had narrowed into a short stretch of gorge between two rocky crags. A crude barricade of boulders had been constructed across its mouth, and a few hundred warriors stood behind the makeshift defences. The Roman outriders had ridden back to make their report the moment they had encountered the tribesmen, and now Cato raised a hand to shield his eyes from the rain as he tried to discern the details of the enemy position.

‘Crispus and his lads should clear them out the way quickly enough,’ Decurion Miro commented as he too surveyed the Deceanglian warriors. He turned in his saddle and looked back. ‘Ah, here he comes, sir.’

The legionary centurion was trying to stride along the side of the column, but the sodden soil sucked at his heavy boots, already weighed down by mud, and he half walked and half slid as he approached. The rain had soaked the crest of his helmet, and the stiff horsehair looked like old palm fronds, spiky and drooping. He stopped a short distance to one side of the glistening coat of Cato’s mount and swallowed in an attempt to control his laboured breathing.

‘You sent for me, sir?’

‘We’ve got company.’ Cato pointed towards the gorge. Crispus squinted into the gloom until he could make out the obstacles blocking their way, and the silent ranks of the warriors beyond.

‘About bloody time. I was wondering when those bastards were going to stand and fight, sir.’

‘It’s only a delaying action, Centurion. They’re merely trying to hold us up and buy time for the main body of their army.’

‘Hold us up?’ Crispus laughed mirthlessly as he raised one of his boots with a clearly audible sucking sound. ‘If we were advancing any slower, we’d be retreating.’

‘Then let’s waste no time about it. This is a job for infantry. Your cohort will clear the gorge. My auxiliaries will form a reserve. We’ll chase them off once you have broken through.’

‘Shouldn’t take us long, sir.’

Cato turned to Miro. ‘Send a man back to the legate to let him know we’ve made contact with a small enemy force and had to halt. Then get the men off the track to make way for the infantry.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Miro saluted and turned aside to pass the order on to one of his riders. Then he sat erect in his saddle and cupped a hand to his mouth to ensure that he was heard above the din of the rain. ‘Second Thracian Cohort . . . dismount! Form line on the side of the track!’

The weary troopers eased themselves out of their saddles and splashed down in to the mud before leading their horses on to the grassy bank that ran along the ancient footpath. Cato waited a moment longer to inspect the enemy position, but there was no movement there. He knew that they must have lookouts on the hills and have been aware of the Roman presence long before they had come in sight of the gorge. The tribesmen seemed ready to fight it out, and he could not help but feel a fleeting admiration for their stolid courage. They had tested themselves against the men of the legions many times before and been soundly beaten, and yet they had not given in. Still they fought on. Was it courage, Cato wondered, or obstinate stupidity? Or more likely the fanaticism whipped up by the Druids. Now that the Romans were marching against the Deceanglians, they would soon threaten the most sacred groves of the Druid cult on the island of Mona. That would inspire them to fight more determinedly than ever before.