‘What happened?’ Macro asked quietly.
‘Quertus was as good as his word.’ The centurion reached for a strip of mutton and chewed on the end until he separated a chunk. As his jaw worked he looked across the table at Macro. ‘You rode past the optio when you reached the fort. His head is on one of those stakes and what’s left of his body is in the outer ditch.’
There was silence as Macro took it all in and then shook his head in disbelief. ‘This is madness. Complete madness. The legate must be told.’
Severus looked doubtful. ‘As long as we’re carrying out his orders to take the fight to the Silures, why would he worry? As far as Quintatus is concerned, everything is going to plan and there are no problems at Bruccium. Why else would he send you and Prefect Cato here? You can forget about any help from that quarter.’
‘Then we must act. Someone has to do something about it.’
‘You’re welcome to try, Macro. Just don’t involve me in it. I’ve given you fair warning of what has been going on here, for the sake of an old comrade. But that’s as far as I’m prepared to go.’
‘You won’t back me?’
Severus sat still for a moment and shrugged helplessly. ‘There’s nothing I can do. Not now, at least. I’m hoping that Caratacus will throw in the towel. That’s the only way I’m getting out of here alive. If Caratacus defeats Ostorius and forces the Romans out of the lands of the Ordovices and Silures, then he’ll turn his attention on us. Given what Quertus has done to the tribes around Bruccium you can be sure there will be little pity in the heart of Caratacus when he deals with any survivors of the garrison.’
Macro sat back and took a deep breath. He could never have imagined a situation like this. His next thought was for Cato and he felt his heart leap in panic. He had left Cato alone with Quertus. He made to rise and knocked the edge of the table. Severus had to thrust out a hand to steady the jug.
‘Oi! Careful, Macro. That’s my bloody wine!’
‘Sod your wine,’ Macro growled. ‘The prefect’s in danger!’
‘No. . No, he’s not. For the moment. Think it through, Macro. Sit down and think about it.’
He waved at the stool Macro had been sitting on and the latter hesitated a moment before he allowed himself to resume his place. ‘Go on.’
‘At first Quertus will try to win the new prefect over. If he can do that, then he will avoid any conflict, and be free to continue as before. His men follow him because he took command of the garrison by the book when Albinus was killed. If he tries to murder Cato, or seize his position, then it will divide the men. That’s not to say that he won’t try to stage an accident. Particularly if the new prefect tries to wrest control of the garrison from Quertus’s hands. As long as Cato’s back is covered he will be safe. But he’s going to have to be very careful about how he deals with Quertus and his Thracians. The same applies to you, my old friend.’
Before Macro could respond, the door opened revealing a dark shadow in the street. The two centurions started uneasily and there was a dry chuckle before the figure stepped into the warm glow of the fire. Macro recognised one of the officers from the Thracian cohort.
‘Very cosy in here. And a small banquet besides!’
Severus swallowed nervously. ‘Stellanus. . What do you want?’
Stellanus laughed humourlessly. ‘Thank you. I don’t mind if I do.’
He shut the door behind him, crossed the room and pulled up a stool. ‘No spare cup? Then I’ll have to make do.’ He grasped the jug and swung it into the air so that the spout was over his bearded lips and then poured a stream of the scarlet liquid into his mouth, swallowing greedily until he set the jug down heavily and smacked his lips. ‘A nice drop, that!’
Severus glared back. ‘Like I said, what do you want?’
‘Just came to find the new commander of the Fourth Cohort.’ He stuck out his hand towards Macro. ‘Centurion Marcus Stellanus, seconded to the Second Thracian Cavalry. Greetings. I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself earlier, at headquarters. Thought I’d come and track you down.’
‘So you have,’ Macro replied evenly, ignoring the outstretched hand. ‘Though I have to say, you make an unlikely centurion.’
Stellanus grinned through his beard. ‘This get-up? It’s Quertus’s idea. Makes us all look wild and terrifying. Grrrrrr!’ He made a face and laughed.
Macro did not blink. ‘Yes, I can imagine that might put the shits up some small kid on a dark night. But to me you look like a latrine brush.’
Stellanus frowned. ‘Sorry?’
Macro smiled. ‘The kind of thing I’d wipe my arse on.’
Stellanus’s brow creased and he fixed Macro with a glare, and then suddenly he grinned once again. ‘Ah, you’re a hard case. Let’s face it. Any man in the legions who lives long enough to command a cohort of his own has to be a hard case. You and I are cut from the same cloth, Macro. I was the commander of the Fourth before I volunteered to serve Quertus.’
‘So I understand.’ Macro casually reached over and took a fold of the other man’s dark cloak between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed it gently. ‘Somehow I doubt that we are cut from the same cloth. I wear the uniform of a Roman officer, not the rags of some barbarian dog.’
Stellanus pulled his cloak free and eased himself back out of reach. ‘There’s no call for that attitude, my friend. I just called in to welcome you to Bruccium. We need good men, now more than ever. Quertus says that the enemy is close to breaking point. Another month or two and they’ll be finished. So I welcome your arrival, and the prefect, and the column of replacements that are due to arrive. Fresh blood. Just what we need to teach those Silurian cunts a lesson.’
‘Sounds like they’ve been taught quite a few lessons already. Same goes for the men in the fort.’
Stellanus glanced at Severus who quickly looked down at his wine and kept his mouth shut. ‘It seems that someone has been telling you stories, Centurion Macro. The truth is that we do things a little differently around here. Some have difficulty in accepting that and they’d be wise to keep their opinions to themselves. However, once you see things for yourself and understand, then I am sure you’ll give Quertus your full support, like most of the rest of us. If not, then at least you’ll not put any obstacles in his way. That’s my advice.’
Macro forced himself to smile faintly. ‘For which I thank you, Stellanus. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I need to retire to my quarters, unpack and settle for the night. I want to be fresh for the inspection tomorrow, when the new prefect introduces himself to the garrison as their new commander.’
‘Ah yes. . Prefect Cato, commander of the fort at Bruccium. Fine titles indeed. But there’s more to a title than mere words, Macro. Let that be the first lesson of your new appointment, if you know what’s good for you. How well do you ride?’
The abrupt change in subject caught Macro by surprise. ‘As well as any legionary needs to,’ he replied awkwardly.
‘That’s good enough. Quertus could do with another good officer for the Thracian cohort.’
‘Then thank him for the offer. But for now I am in command of the Fourth Cohort of the Fourteenth Legion.’
Stellanus smiled coldly. ‘For now. .’
‘I intend to make the Fourth into the best cohort in the legion. Do me a favour, Stellanus. Tell the Romans that have joined Quertus that there is still a place for them here. At least until the replacement column arrives. After that, I’ll be sending a report back to Glevum to the effect that any legionary serving with the Thracians has surrendered the privileges, pay and bonuses that go with service in the legions. You might want to consider that offer for yourself.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘No?’ Macro stood up. ‘A pity. I was sure there was a decent Roman hiding under all that spectacular growth of stinking hair. Seems I was wrong. I bid you goodnight. . Thracian.’
Stellanus’s eyes narrowed beneath his heavy brow but he said nothing as Macro left the mess. Outside he drew a deep breath and strode towards the barracks at the end of the street. When he had landed in Britannia he had been excited by the prospect of returning to his career in the legions. It had felt like coming home, he mused. All the once familiar sights, sounds, smells and routine of life in the service of Rome. Now that he was here in Bruccium, that dream taunted him cruelly. Instead he found himself in the darkest of nightmares where death was a constant shadow mere inches from his back.