Quertus’s expression darkened and his officers stirred and exchanged angry glances. Quertus rose to his feet.
‘No one is killing my horses. Not without my say-so.’
Cato casually clasped his hands behind his back so that no one might see the tense trembling of his fingers. The Thracian had challenged him in front of all the officers. Now was the moment to stand his ground, yet he was filled with fear that he had insufficient authority to compel Quertus and the officers of the auxiliary cohort to bow to his will. He forced himself to speak slowly, clearly and forcefully.
‘I have tolerated your insubordinate manner for long enough, Centurion Quertus. The next time you address me in such a fashion I will have you arrested, regardless of the need for every man I can scrape together to defend the fort. It is because of you that every one of us in this room is in danger. . Now, if I give the order to start slaughtering the horses then it will be done at once and without question, starting with your horse. Is that understood?’
There was a unbearable stillness in the room. Cato stared at his subordinate without blinking. For his part, the Thracian glowered, then at length gritted his teeth and nodded, before slowly easing himself back down on to his bench.
Cato felt a flush of relief flow through his limbs and allowed a moment for the other men to reflect on the Thracian’s climbdown before he continued. ‘If, or when, the enemy attack, Centurion Severus will hold half his century in reserve behind the main gate. Centurion Stellanus will take fifty of the Thracians to cover the sides and rear of the fort. The rest will defend the wall facing the parade ground. Understood?’ Cato glanced round at his officers and they nodded. ‘You know your duty. You have your orders. There’s no more that needs to be said, gentlemen. Centurion Quertus, see to it that your men are divided into two watches. You’ll alternate with the legionaries. Make sure that you keep them on their toes.’
‘My men know their duty, sir,’ Quertus replied sourly.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Cato nodded his head towards the door. ‘To your stations then, gentlemen.’
Quertus and his officers filed from the room, followed by Severus and Petillius. Cato caught Macro’s eye and raised a hand to indicate his friend should remain. Macro closed the door and turned back.
‘What is it?’
Cato spoke in a low voice. ‘When the action starts, be sure to keep an eye on Quertus. After what happened in the Silurian village, who knows what he might try to do in the heat of battle.’
‘Don’t worry, lad,’ Macro made himself smile. ‘If he decides to play his little games, he’s going to find out that I play for keeps.’ He drew a finger across his throat and chuckled. ‘Right now, I can’t think of any better way of passing the time than sticking a blade between that bastard’s ribs and giving it a none too gentle twist.’
Cato cocked an eyebrow. ‘Charming thought. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need Quertus, for the present, given the hold he has over his men. We’ll deal with him once the siege is over, assuming we’re still around then.’
Macro frowned. ‘An equally bloody charming thought. Thanks for that.’
Cato laughed, and then smiled at the momentary release of tension. He reached for his helmet liner and slipped it on before putting on his helmet and fastening the strap. Macro followed suit but finished before his friend, and noticed the clumsiness of his younger friend’s fingers.
‘Here,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll do that.’
Cato took a step away, and shook his head, angry with himself for betraying the anxiety he felt inside. ‘I can do it.’
He forced himself to continue steadily tying off the thick leather thongs.
‘Do you think Caratacus is going to back down when you threaten his brother, come the morning?’ Macro asked.
Cato lowered his hands and paused. ‘I don’t know. He has marched his army down here to put paid to Quertus and his raids just as much as he has come to rescue Maridius, I should think. If I were in his place, I’d put the need to shore up the support of my allies above the life of my brother. But then I’ve never had a brother so perhaps I cannot understand the depth of his feeling for Maridius.’
‘I haven’t got a brother either, but I think I would want to save one if I had the chance,’ Macro mused. ‘If I failed in that, then I’d not rest until I had avenged him.’
‘Then you have something in common with Caratacus.’ The thought caught Cato by surprise. Perhaps there was more truth in that than he would like to think. There was a kindred spirit between the likes of Macro and Caratacus, brothers in arms regardless of the causes for which they fought. They had certain attributes of valour, integrity and honesty of feeling that Cato felt he could only aspire to and never achieve. He was too questioning of things to allow himself the pleasure of such certainties. His heart ached as he felt a keen sense of loss over knowing that he could never share the sureness of sentiment enjoyed by Macro.
Macro looked outraged. ‘Me? Share anything with that bastard? Never! Bollocks to that.’ He reached for the latch. ‘The very fucking idea. . I have to get back to the wall.’
Before Cato could say another word his friend had strode out of the room, muttering darkly to himself.
‘So much for the notion of the universal bond of the warrior.’ Cato shrugged and set off after his friend.
Throughout the night the garrison of Bruccium kept watch over the approaches to the fort. Stocks of javelins were brought from the stores and stacked at the foot of the rampart, along with bundles of kindling, tightly bound and liberally doused with pitch so that they would readily catch fire when the time came to bundle them over the wall and illuminate the enemy. Flames flickered in a handful of small braziers spread around the inside of the ramparts and some of the soldiers were warming themselves by the meagre blazes, their faces washed in a ruddy hue. The watches changed as a horn sounded from headquarters, blowing a brief series of notes over the camp. The haystacks had burned fiercely for a while, bathing the ground and the enemy warriors below the fort in a lurid red. The flames died down after midnight and only pinpricks of red still glowed in the darkness.
Cato and Macro based themselves in the gatehouse, taking turns to walk the defences and ensure that the men were alert. Every so often Cato would pause and stare down into the night, straining his eyes and ears to detect any sign of enemy movement. But there was nothing save the occasional muted order or brief exchange of words from the direction of the parade ground. There was no sign of any activity beyond the other walls of the fort where, in any case, the rush of the river over the rocks made it impossible to pick out any faint sounds. On his return to the gatehouse, Cato laid his helmet to one side and sat against the side of the guardroom. He pulled his cloak tightly about him and closed his eyes. Opposite, Macro snored deeply, until he was roused at the appointed hour to take his turn around the defences. Cato could not sleep, but wanted to show the sentries in the gatehouse that he was confident enough to slumber in the presence of his enemies. It would create a good impression on the men, he knew, and word would quickly spread about the cool-mindedness of the fort’s commander.
But although his head tilted in repose and his chest rose and fell with an easy rhythm, his mind was seething as he went over the layout of the fort and the ground upon which it stood. Then he tried to place himself in the mind of Caratacus and assess the weak points in the defences, and where and how he might assault the fort. For each possibility Cato considered his response and how he might deploy his meagre numbers to hold off the enemy horde. The greatest danger would be if Caratacus unleashed a rolling assault along two or three sides of the fort. That would soon force Cato to commit his reserves and inevitably leave some section of the wall vulnerable. There was one other issue to plague his thoughts. Caratacus would be determined to deal with the fort and its defenders as swiftly as possible, before Ostorius got wind of his location. The garrison could expect an assault at any moment.