Centurion

'The son of a freedman, and now a prefect of auxiliaries,' Julia mused. 'That's quite an achievement.'

'Acting prefect,' Cato confessed. 'Once a permanent commander is found I will revert to the rank of centurion. A junior one at that.'

She saw through his modesty at once. 'The fact that you were chosen for the command at all must mean someone thinks you have potential, Cato.'

'It would be nice to think so. Otherwise it'll take a long time to work up enough seniority for any further promotion in the legions.'

'And you'd like that?'

'What soldier wouldn't?'

'Forgive me, Cato, but you don't seem like a typical soldier to me.'

He looked at her. 'I don't?'

'Oh, I'm sure that you are a fine officer, and I know that you are brave, and you have quite a way with words according to my father.'

'But?'

She shrugged. 'I don't really know. You seem to have a certain sensitivity that I haven't encountered in the soldiers I've met before.'

'Blame it on the palace upbringing.'

She laughed and then stared out across the city again, and a silence grew between them, until Cato spoke.'What about you? What happened to the young girl who spent her evenings staring out across Rome?'

Julia smiled faintly, then gently clasped her wrist with the other hand and rubbed it slowly. 'Like all girls from a good family, I was married to a man three times my age as soon as I was fourteen. It was supposed to establish a bond between two families with proud lineages. Only my husband used to beat me.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

She looked at him sadly. 'I know what you're thinking. All husbands beat their wives from time to time.'

'I didn't mean…'

'Well, maybe it's true. But Junius Porcinus used to beat me almost every day. For any fault he could find in me. I took it for a while… I thought that was how marriages were supposed to be. After two years of looking at a bruised face in the mirror every morning I asked my father for permission to divorce Porcinus. When he learned what had been going on he agreed. I've travelled with him on the Emperor's business ever since. I suppose I run the household for him in place of my mother. She died giving birth to me.' Julia was silent for a moment and then smiled awkwardly. 'How silly of me! Boring you to death with my family history when you need to rest.'

'No, it's quite all right,' Cato replied. 'I mean, I'm not bored. Honestly.You're very… open.'

'Indiscreet, you mean.'

Cato shook his head. 'Open, honest. It's just that I'm not used to it. Soldiers tend not to be too forthcoming about their feelings. So this is a pleasing change.'

'Oh, I'm not normally so candid. But now?' Julia shrugged. 'Life might be somewhat shorter than I had expected. There's no point in holding back those things I want to say. The prospect of death can be quite liberating.'

'Ah, that I can agree with.' Cato chuckled as he recalled the wild exhilaration of combat, mixed with dreadful fear. Paradoxically, he had never felt more alive than at such moments. A sad truth, he conceded to himself. There was a time when his greatest pleasure had been the pursuit of knowledge. Since becoming a soldier he had discovered a side of his nature that he had never suspected was there. But then, perhaps that was the gift of soldiering – the gaining of self-knowledge. Five years ago he had been a timid youth, filled with doubts about his worth. Everything had seemed impossible. Now he knew what he was capable of, the good as well as the bad. He had achieved feats of endurance and courage that once he would never have thought possible.

Cato realised that he had been silent for a while, and that Julia was watching him, sidelong.

'Sometimes I wish I had been born a man,' she said quietly. 'So many experiences are denied to women. So many opportunities. But since the revolt broke out, I'm not so sure. I can't think how many broken bodies I've had to deal with in the hospital. It's a brutal business being a soldier.'

'True enough,' Cato agreed.'But it's only part of the job. We don't live to kill.'

'If you had only seen what happened here the day the revolt broke out.' Julia shuddered and closed her eyes tightly for a moment. 'The killing began and didn't stop. Soldiers killed soldiers, then women and children. Butchery, that's what it was. I've never seen anything so barbaric.'

'Perhaps.' Cato rubbed his cheek. 'The thing is, that barbarian is there in all of us. It just takes the right kind of provocation, or opportunity, before the barbarian emerges.'

She looked at him closely. 'You really think so?'

'I know it.'

'And you think you have it in you to act the barbarian?'

'It's not an act. Not for me. Not for any man. Not even for you, Julia. Given the right circumstances.'

She stared at him for a moment before easing herself away from the battlements.'It's been nice to talk to someone about something other than their injuries. But I must let you rest. I thank you for your kindness. I shouldn't impose on you any further.'

Her tone was firm, and Cato did not feel confident enough to press the issue. Besides, he was too tired to think clearly and dared not risk saying anything foolish to this woman he keenly wanted to know better.

'We can talk again another night,' he suggested.

'That would be nice. I'd like that.'

They both stared across the agora to where the rebels were putting the finishing touches to their battering ram and its housing.

'Will they take the citadel?' Julia asked softly.

'I can't say,' Cato replied wearily.

'Can't say? Or won't say?'

'I wouldn't lie to you about our chances, Julia. I just don't know. It depends on so many factors.'

She turned to him and pressed her hand to her chest. 'Forget the details.Tell me from your heart. Do you feel we can live through this?'

Cato stared into her eyes and nodded slowly. 'We'll survive. I give you my word. I will let nothing happen to you.'

She looked back at him and nodded. 'Thank you for being honest with me.'

Cato smiled at her. Julia turned and descended into the tower. Now that she had gone Cato was aware of the coolness of the night and he shivered. Perhaps they really would talk again another night, he mused. He hoped so. But as he took a last look across the agora at the enemy clustered about the battering ram he knew that the morrow would bring a fresh assault on these walls and only a handful of tired Roman soldiers and Greek mercenaries stood between Prince Artaxes' bloodthirsty rebels and the terrified civilians sheltering inside the citadel.

08 Centurion

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The defenders had been at their posts on the walls of the citadel since first light, intently watching the approach to the gate and waiting for the rebels to begin their attack. Stocks of arrows, javelins and sling shot had been placed at regular intervals along the battlements and heavy blocks of stone had been piled on the rampart above the gates. The smell of heated oil filled the air as smoke billowed lazily from one of the large ovens close to the barracks of the Greek mercenaries.

Macro and Cato, together with the commander of the royal bodyguard, a wiry veteran named Demetrius, and Prince Balthus, stood on the battlements above the gate and stared towards the rebel soldiers forming up around the ram housing.

'It didn't take them long to repair the damage,' said Balthus.

Demetrius took a sharp breath. 'We did what we could in the short time available to us, my Prince.'

'So you say. Just a shame that it has won only one day, while it cost you over thirty men.'

Demetrius pressed his lips together in a thin line to bite off an intemperate response.Then he managed to mutter, 'A shame, as you say, my lord.'

'Well, what's done is done,' Macro intervened. 'They're coming and we'll have to make sure we send 'em packing.

It's time we joined our men. Good luck.' He turned to Cato and clasped arms, and then did the same with the others. 'Stick it to 'em!'