‘That fat coward?’ Maridius sneered. ‘He has damned himself, his line and his people in the eyes of every other tribe in Britannia.’
‘Hardly every tribe. The Atrebates are only one of twelve tribes who have made peace with Rome.’
‘Then damn them too!’ Maridius shouted.
No one spoke for a moment. Macro yawned. ‘This is all very interesting, sir, but it’s not helping us. He’s as mad as the rest of ’em. Let’s find out what we need and put an end to it.’
Cato raised a hand to silence his friend. ‘I’ll give you one last chance before the interrogation continues, Maridius. While I admire your courage and your pride, it is only helping to prolong the suffering of your people.’
The prisoner gave a dry laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘They are not my people. They are the Silures and the Ordovices. What do I care for their suffering?’
‘That’s nice,’ Macro commented.
‘They are still people,’ Cato continued. ‘They deserve better from those that lead them. They deserve peace.’
‘Roman peace?’
Cato ignored the taunt. ‘Peace. That is what we will give them once Caratacus is defeated. I need to know the location of his army, and how many men he has. I don’t care how I get the information, but I will get it.’
The prisoner glowered and then thrust out his jaw defiantly. ‘Fuck you.’
Macro sighed. ‘What, again?’
With a tired expression Cato stepped aside and nodded to Quertus. ‘Your men may continue.’
The Thracian moved his stool back a pace and then nodded to his men. The trooper tasked with beating the prisoner rose to his feet and moved round to the front of Maridius as he cracked his weathered knuckles and rolled his neck, like a boxer loosening up for a bout, thought Cato. He braced his boots on the floor as Maridius clenched his jaw and half closed his eyes, preparing himself for further blows.
The door to the guardroom opened suddenly and all eyes turned towards it as the duty officer, one of Severus’s optios, stepped inside and saluted Cato.
‘Sir, beg to report, one of the sentries says he has seen movement below the fort.’
‘Movement?’ Cato frowned. ‘What do you mean? Be specific, man.’
The optio was a young man, only a year or two older than Cato had been when he first held the rank. His anxiety was clear to see as he opened his mouth and tried to marshal his thoughts.
‘Just make your report, Optio.’ Cato forced himself to speak calmly. ‘What exactly has the sentry seen?’
‘He says there are men in front of the fort.’
‘He saw them? How many?’
‘He heard voices, sir. And horses. Then he sent another man to find me.’
‘And where were you?’
The optio took a quick breath. ‘In the latrine, sir.’
Cato bit back on his irritation. No doubt the optio had been spending the time with some comrades, in the way that many men did, in the traditional cosy camaraderie of the latrine block. It was far more comfortable to enjoy the banter in the warm and dry of the latrine than spend the night patrolling the windy ramparts of the fort. But that was no excuse. The optio was on duty. If he needed to piss then he could do it at the foot of the rampart. If he needed a shit, then he’d have to wait until he went off duty.
‘We’ll deal with that later,’ Cato said curtly. ‘Did you hear or see anything yourself when you got to the wall?’
‘I–I am not sure, sir.’
Macro’s patience snapped. ‘Either you did or you didn’t. Which is it?’
‘I thought I heard voices, sir.’ The optio glanced from Cato to Macro and back to the prefect.
Quertus laughed. ‘The fool’s imagining things. The river’s high. I’ve known men mistake the sound of a fast current flowing over the rocks for something else, and their imaginations do the rest. It’s nothing. Optio, go back to your duty and discipline your sentry. Perhaps a week cleaning out your shit in the latrine will cure him of his nerves.’
‘Wait,’ Cato interrupted. ‘You seem very sure of yourself, Centurion.’
‘Why shouldn’t I be? The Silurians are too frightened to show their faces in this valley. There’s been no sign of them anywhere near the fort in months. Your man is jumping at shadows. I thought legionaries were made of tougher stuff.’
Macro bristled. ‘There’s no better fighting man than a legionary. You’d do well to remember that, Thracian.’
‘Maybe, but there are clearly better sentries. Optio, tell your man to pull himself together and stop being a coward.’
‘That’s a word too far,’ Macro growled, taking a step towards Quertus as his hand slipped down towards the handle of his sword. ‘You bloody take that back or I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat you’ll be shitting them for the next month.’
Quertus stood up and stared down at Macro with an amused smile twisting his lips. But there was a deadly coldness in his eyes that made Cato scared for the life of his friend. He stepped between them before the confrontation could go any further and addressed the optio, still standing nervously by the door. ‘Optio, this fort is the furthest we have pushed into the enemy’s territory. That means we don’t take any chances. If you, or any of your men, even think there is any danger it is to be reported at once. Have you given the word for Severus’s century to be called out?’
The junior officer shook his head. ‘No, sir.’
Cato felt a sick feeling in his heart. It was too late to castigate the optio now. That would only cause further delay. ‘Then do it now. I want Severus and his men on the wall at once. But tell him to do it quietly. Go.’
The optio dashed out, relieved to escape from the stern gaze of his commander. Cato turned to the other officers in the room. ‘It’s probably nothing, like you say, Quertus, but I’ll take no risks over the fort’s safety. Let’s see what’s happening for ourselves.’ Cato paused and gestured towards the prisoner, still hanging by his arms from the iron hook in the beam. ‘You men, return the prisoner to his cell.’
Outside, the fort was still and quiet and only the cool breeze brushed between the buildings. The sky was mostly clear and sprinkled with stars. A waxing moon was dimly visible behind a bank of ghostly silver cloud but would not provide much illumination for a while yet. Cato paused to listen briefly but there was no sound of the alarm being raised, and no sound of anything ominous from outside the fort. He allowed his spirits to rise for a moment as he led the other two officers towards the main gate that gave out on to the slope sweeping down towards the parade ground in the valley. He made himself walk at an unhurried pace in order to appear as cool-headed as possible in front of the Thracian. As they reached the gate they heard Severus issuing orders in a muted tone and the dull thud of boots as the legionaries hurried from their barrack block and made for their stations on the wall. The gatehouse was a timber and turf construction and a small brazier a short distance from the watchroom provided warmth and illumination for those on duty. The officers entered the gatehouse and climbed the ladder that gave out on to the platform above the gate. Stout pine posts formed the breastwork and the sentry on duty turned towards the officers and stood to attention, grounding his javelin.
‘You’re the one who reported movement?’ Cato asked brusquely.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Make your report then.’
The sentry nodded and turned back to the breastwork and leaned his javelin against his shoulder as he gestured into the darkness beyond the defensive ditch. ‘Down there, sir. I heard voices in the direction of the parade ground, and I saw someone moving.’
‘You saw someone? You’re sure of that?’
The sentry hesitated a moment and then committed himself. ‘Yes, sir. It was definitely a man, crouched in the grass a short distance beyond the ditch.’
Quertus gave a dismissive snort as he leaned on the wooden rail running along the top of the breastwork and stared into the darkness. ‘I can’t see or hear anything. . How long ago was it when you think you saw something?’