Cato swallowed as he fought to control the wave of disgust that threatened to overwhelm him. Then, as he looked up at the fort, he saw more heads along the rampart, facing out over the valley as if to warn any onlooker that this had become a place of death and darkness. A darkness of the human soul as black as night itself, Cato thought as he rode beside Macro in silence, passing between the severed heads of the victims of Quertus and his men.
As they reached the narrow causeway across the outer ditch, an order was shouted inside the fort and the gates began to open, the hinges groaning and creaking under the burden of the heavy timbers. Quertus halted and turned his horse across the track so that he could face the two officers behind him. The rain had drenched his dark hair and cloak, which seemed to merge into one, slick with a dull gleam, like pitch. His beard parted as he grinned and waved a hand towards the gloomy opening beneath the gatehouse.
‘Centurion Macro, Prefect Cato. . welcome to Bruccium.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
There was a knock on the door and a moment later Decimus entered and bowed his head in salute. ‘Sir, the last of the officers has arrived. They’re waiting in the hall.’
‘Very well.’ Cato eased himself up from the stool behind the desk. ‘Help me with the armour.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Decimus crossed the commander’s office to the wooden frame on which Cato’s armour and weapons hung. Two hours had passed since they had reached the fort. The prisoner had been taken to the fort’s guardhouse while Decimus had managed to unpack Cato and Macro’s baggage in the quarters they had been assigned in the fort’s headquarters block. There had been no need for Quertus to remove his kit since he had never chosen to occupy the rooms that had belonged to Cato’s predecessor. The former prefect’s meagre possessions had been left in place and Decimus had summoned the last two clerks from the headquarters staff to remove them to one of the storerooms. The clerks were aged veterans, grey-haired and too feeble to take their place in the ranks alongside their younger, fitter comrades. Earlier, they had explained to Cato that since Quertus had taken command, the rest of the headquarters staff had been plucked from behind their desks to join the ranks of the men that Quertus led against the surrounding tribes. There had been no attempt to maintain the records of the two cohorts in the garrison and the headquarters block had been largely abandoned. Only the two clerks remained, doing such tasks as their temporary commander deigned to give them.
Cato had changed out of the tunic and boots he had worn for the ride from Glevum. In their place he had put on a fresh tunic and a leather jerkin trimmed with shoulder strips, and calfskin boots which were more comfortable and practical than the sturdy soldier’s sandals that he favoured in the field. He held his arms out as Decimus fitted the back and front plates of his cuirass and started fastening the buckles. Once he had finished one side, the servant shuffled round and started work on the other, clearing his throat as he addressed his superior.
‘This ain’t what I was expecting, sir,’ he began cautiously.
‘It isn’t what either of us was expecting,’ Cato replied wryly. ‘Centurion Quertus has some rather individual notions about the duties of a garrison commander and officer in the Roman army.’
Decimus grunted and continued to the next buckle. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this place before, sir. Never want to see anything like it again, for that matter. All those heads. And the bodies left in the ditch. It ain’t right. And those men of his, it’s like they’re in a trance. None of them wanted to speak to me while we were marching to the fort. Just ignored me, though I did see a look in their eyes. Like they were too afraid to talk.’
‘Really? Perhaps they were just observing good discipline.’
Decimus fastened the last buckle and took a step back. ‘Is that what you think, sir?’
‘I don’t have to tell my servant what I think, Decimus. Nor do I think it is proper for you to voice such opinions about a senior centurion. Is that clear?’ Cato did not want to dress the man down but he needed to know there were boundaries which had to be observed, unless permission was given to cross them. Cato relaxed his tone as he continued, ‘That’s the official line, in normal circumstances. But the situation here is far from normal. We must tread very carefully about Centurion Quertus for the moment. I need you to be my eyes and ears amongst the rankers of the garrison. Find out what has been going on here. See if anyone knows anything about the fate of my predecessor, Prefect Albinus. But be careful, Decimus.’
‘I will be, sir. Since you left me with no choice about coming here, I aim to get out of Bruccium in one piece and get what you promised to pay me.’
‘Assuming I live long enough to honour my debt.’
Decimus stared at him. ‘Do you think we’re in that much danger, sir?’
Cato looked at him with a surprised expression. ‘Of course we are. These mountains and valleys are home to the toughest, most ruthless warriors in Britannia. They hate us with a passion, and they’ll fight until the bitter end. And it’s possible that we don’t just have to worry about the enemy. I won’t lie to you, Decimus. I’ve never seen anything like this place either. I’ll have to be careful. So will you and Macro. Keep your wits about you at all times, understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. I hope I’m being overcautious and things aren’t as bad as they seem. Maybe in a few days we’ll have a laugh about it.’
‘Somehow I doubt that.’
‘We’ll see. Now for the band.’
Decimus took the bright red strip of cloth from the stand and passed it round the midriff of the cuirass before tying it off at the front and tucking the loose ends in so that the slack hung in decorative loops.
‘How do I look?’ asked Cato.
Decimus pursed his lips. ‘If it was anywhere else, I’d say fine. But here, you look out of place, sir.’
Cato did not respond but pointed to his sword and Decimus placed the strap over his shoulder and settled the scabbard to Cato’s right, and then plucked up the collar of the tunic to ensure there was no point at which the neck of the cuirass would chafe against the prefect’s skin. He stepped back to admire his handiwork and forced a smile. ‘You look ready to present to the Emperor himself, sir.’
‘One last thing.’ Cato hated vainglory but considered that it would strengthen his position at the fort if the officers realised that their new commander was not just some chinless wonder straight from a comfortable household in Rome. ‘Over there, in that chest. My medal harness.’
Decimus did as he was told and retrieved the set of polished discs fastened to the gleaming leather of the harness. Cato was gratified to see the frank look of admiration in the veteran’s eyes as he placed the harness over the breastplate. Cato held them in place while his servant fastened the buckle at the back.
‘You’ve seen quite a lot action then, sir. They don’t hand these out just for showing up.’
‘No, they don’t.’ Cato smiled briefly. ‘As for action, I’ve seen more than enough. But I’ve got the feeling that I’ll be seeing plenty more, and soon, if the gods have their way.’
‘Don’t know about the gods, sir. But I’m sure that’s what Caratacus has in mind for us. And if not him, then Centurion Quertus.’
‘That is for me to decide now,’ Cato responded firmly. He took a deep breath and faced the door, pausing a moment to collect his thoughts and calm his troubled mind. Then he picked up the leather document holder that contained his authority to assume command of the garrison and strode towards the door. He stepped out into the corridor and made his way towards the main hall of the headquarters block, his boots echoing off the walls.