Centurion

'Oh?'

'Let's not forget what Prince Artaxes has in store for us, if he takes the citadel.'

'I hadn't forgotten.'

Macro shrugged. 'If it comes down to a choice between the civilians and us, well, there's no choice in my book.'

Cato did not reply. He was still thinking about the threat to massacre all the Romans found inside the citadel. That would include the ambassador's daughter, Julia – though not before she was handed over to Artaxes' soldiers to use as they wished. He felt anger rise up in him at the prospect, and there it was again, that thrill of affection, like a warm ache in his heart. Cato reached for the jug and took several mouthfuls. Macro watched him in amusement.

'You drink as if you've only just discovered wine.'

Cato lowered the jug.'I needed that. It's been a long day.'

'And then some.' Macro laughed. 'Ever the one for understatement, aren't you?'

Cato joined in the laughter and for a moment the strain of recent days lifted from his shoulders and he was glad that he would be at Macro's side in the struggle to come. Whatever the odds, whatever the likelihood of defeat and death, somehow Macro had always managed to make Cato feel that they would come through the ordeal alive.

He rose up and stretched his shoulders with a weary grunt.

'Going somewhere?' Macro asked.

Cato nodded. 'One last walk round the sentry posts before I turn in. That's all.'

'Make sure it is.You need the rest, lad. We all do.'

'Who are you, my mother?'

'No. Just your commanding officer. And I order you to get a good night's sleep.'

Cato smiled and made an exaggerated salute. 'Yes, sir!'

He left the stables and climbed up on to the battlements. Tonight it was the turn of the Second Illyrian to provide the watch and Cato went from post to post to make sure that his men were awake and keeping a close eye on the enemy. The sentries were as tired as the rest of the men, but they well knew the penalty for sleeping on duty – death by stoning – and kept moving, steadily marching up and down the stretch of wall that had been allocated to them.When he had checked the last of his men and was happy that the duty centurion had properly prepared the passwords and changes of the watch, Cato climbed up into the beacon tower to have a last look out over the city before he made his way to his bed and a desperately needed sleep.

At the top of the stairs, he paused to catch his breath, and then emerged on to the platform and nodded in response to the salute of the auxiliary manning the pyre.Within a heavy iron frame split palm logs lay on top of a pile of dried palms that acted as kindling. Under the frame lay the ashes of the fire that had been lit the previous night to signal Macro to make his attack on the eastern gate of the city. Cato crossed to the battlements overlooking the agora and stared across to the temple precinct where the rebels had laboured through the day to make repairs to the ram and its housing. Torches flared around the structure where men had replaced the severed ropes, and now long lines of men heaved on pulleys as the ram was raised into position and support ropes hurriedly lashed to the timber frame of the housing. As he watched their progress, Cato felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he realised that the ram would be repaired before the next day dawned. The brave attack by the Greek mercenaries had cost the enemy one day.That was all it had achieved, aside from diverting the enemy's attention away from Macro's assault on the eastern gate. A small enough gain, Cato reflected, but he had been a soldier long enough to know that one day might yet mean the difference between success and defeat.

He lifted his gaze and slowly scanned the surrounding area. Lights from fires in the streets on the other side of the city revealed the heart of the enemy's activity. Cato realised how completely outnumbered the garrison of the citadel was. And if the Parthians reached the city before Longinus did then there was no hope.

Cato heard footsteps as another person climbed into the signal tower, but he was too tired and depressed by his thoughts to bother turning to look.

'Why, it's Prefect Cato,' said Julia.

Cato looked round, straightening up to greet her with stiff formality. 'Lady Julia.'

'What are you doing here?' she asked bluntly.

Cato was frustrated by the interruption and replied tersely. 'My job. And you?'

'I've finished my work for the day, Prefect.This is where I come to be alone.'

'Alone?' Cato could not hide his surprise. 'Why would you want to be alone?'

She looked at him shrewdly.'For the same reason as you, I imagine. To think. That is why you are up here, isn't it?'

Cato frowned, angry that she had guessed his mind and habits so easily. The extreme irritation of his expression made his face comical and she suddenly laughed: a light, pleasing sound that Cato would have liked under different circumstances, but now only made his expression harden even more. She reached out and touched his arm.

'I'm so sorry. We seem to have got off on the wrong foot.' She smiled. 'Believe me, I meant no offence. I didn't mean to make you angry.'

Her tone was sincere and the light of the small brazier glowing beside the pyre made her eyes sparkle. Much as Cato wanted to maintain his cold mood, he could not help warming to her.

He nodded. 'It wasn't the most cordial of introductions. I apologise for my behaviour. Sometimes it's hard to forget that I'm a soldier.'

'I know. My father sometimes suffers from the same complaint as a diplomat. And after all you have been through, I'm sure you have a right to be short with me.'

Cato was embarrassed by his earlier behaviour and all the more self-conscious about it now that Julia had shown him a graciousness that he had not returned in kind. He swallowed nervously and bowed his head as he took a half-step back from her. 'I'd better leave you to your thoughts then, my lady. I apologise for intruding on your privacy.'

'But it is I who have intruded. You were here first,' she reminded him. 'Would you not share the tower with me? I promise I'll be quiet and won't distract you.'

There was that faintly amused tone to her voice again and Cato felt that she was mocking him. He shook his head. 'I must rest, my lady. I bid you good night.'

Before he could turn away completely Julia blurted out, 'Please, stay and talk to me. If you're not too tired to spare me a moment.'

He was exhausted, and the thought of sleep was beyond temptation, yet the pleading look in her eyes melted his resolve. He smiled. 'It would be a pleasure, my lady.'

'You know, you could call me Julia.'

'I could. But only if you call me Cato.'

'But that's your cognomen. Might I know your familiar name?'

'In the army we only go by the cognomen. Force of habit.'

'Very well, Cato it is.' Julia moved away, towards the side of the tower that looked over the agora. She glanced back at him and smiled, and Cato went over and joined her, conscious of her closeness and yet not daring to make any kind of physical contact. He was aware of her scent for the first time, a citron tang mixed with something sweet, and he savoured it as he stood beside her and stared out across Palmyra.

'Such a beautiful thing,' Julia mused. 'A city at night. I used to sit on the roof terrace of our house in Rome when I was a child. We lived on the Janiculan Hill, with views towards the forum and the imperial palace. At night torches and braziers sparkled like diamonds, and amber, right across the city. On moonlit nights you could see the details clearly for miles, as if Rome was a toy made of blue stone. Sometimes a mist would rise from the Tiber.'

Cato smiled. 'I remember that. It was like a fine silk veil. Looked so soft that I wanted to reach out and touch it.'

She glanced at him with a surprised expression. 'You too? I thought I was the only one who saw it that way.You lived in Rome?'

'I was raised in the palace. My father was an imperial freedman.' The words were out before Cato could stop himself and he wondered if she would think worse of him for his lowly origins.