‘Kill them!’ he shouted to his followers. ‘Now, or we’re dead men!’
Cato strode forward, sword held ready. ‘Quertus!’ he bellowed. ‘Throw down your weapons, you and your men. Do it now!’
The Thracians at the gate backed away from the legionaries uncertainly, turning towards the approaching prefect. Around them, in a growing ring, stood the legionaries and auxiliaries roused from their sleep by the alarm. Cato grasped what must have happened and he stopped a safe distance from Quertus.
‘You’re trying to desert. . Centurion Petillius!’
‘Sir?’ the officer responded from the gathering crowd.
‘Get your men over to the gate at once!’
‘Yes, sir! Legionaries! On me!’
Men surged forward and took position between the Thracians and the gate. There was enough light now for Cato to see the horse holders clearly and he gave a start.
‘Decimus? What in the name of the gods are you doing?’
His servant shrank before his superior’s gaze, and then released the reins of the horses he was tending and edged forward, glancing from Cato to Quertus and back again. Then he hurried across to join the ranks on either side of the Thracian officer. The other handlers followed his cue and ran across to join their leader. In amongst them he saw Maridius, arms bound to his side. Cato glared at them all, still unwilling to believe the evidence of the treachery before his eyes. Then he turned to the gate. ‘Macro!’
There was no reply. Cato edged round and joined Petillius and his men. ‘Macro! Speak up, man!’
‘He’s here, sir!’ a legionary replied and Cato thrust his way through to the foot of the gatehouse. In the gloom he saw a legionary spreadeagled on the ground, lying still. Another was sitting with his back to the gate, nursing an injured arm, one hand clamped over the wound to stem the blood. One of the men was kneeling beside a figure lying on his side. Cato felt his heart leap as he crouched down. Macro’s eyes were flickering and he groaned feebly, but there was no sign of blood on his body.
‘He took a blow to the head,’ said one of the sentries. ‘Saw it happen just after you arrived, sir.’
Cato felt relief, then the rage flowed back and he stood and turned to Quertus, his sword thrust out towards the Thracian. ‘Arrest that man! Arrest all of them!’
‘Sir?’ Centurion Petillius looked confused.
‘Cowards!’ Cato spat. ‘Cowards and deserters! Do as I order. Arrest them!’
Petillius took a step towards them. ‘Drop your weapons!’
Quertus laughed harshly. ‘I don’t think so. If you take on me then you take on all my men. Isn’t that right, boys? We’ve had enough of this Roman puppy! He has not earned the right to command you. This fort is mine. This fort belongs to Thracians!’ He punched his sword into the air and the men around him cheered uncertainly, then again with more heart. Cato noticed that some of those who stood in the ring of men around the gatehouse joined in, and began to cross the open ground to join their commander. A chill of fear trickled down his spine at the growing danger of the situation. He stepped forward and addressed the ring of men.
‘Hear me! Hear me!’
The cries of the other men died away and Cato thrust his finger at Quertus. ‘This man, this coward, was about to abandon the fort and leave us to our fate!’
‘Liar!’ Quertus shot back. ‘I was sending my men to raise the alarm since this Roman refused to give the order! He would have us die here! I would save us.’
Cato pointed at Maridius. ‘Then what is the enemy prince doing here? You were going to use him as a hostage to get through the enemy lines. Is that not so?’
Quertus’s eyes narrowed craftily. ‘Of course. What chance would my men have without him? Better to put him to some good use than let him rot in chains.’
‘And you were going to remain here, I suppose,’ Cato asked cynically. ‘After you sent these men on their way?’
‘Of course. My place is here, beside my comrades. Leading them into battle.’
Cato’s lip curled. ‘You liar! You coward. The proof of your treachery is there by the gate. The men you attacked in order to escape from the fort. You would have killed them all and ridden off leaving the gate open to the enemy. No doubt you hoped that we’d be wiped out, and you could return to Glevum and claim to have cut your way free, with a valuable prisoner to hand over to the legate. I can see it all.’
‘You can see nothing!’ Quertus shouted back. He swept his arms out as if to embrace his men. ‘My brothers, now is the time to take our fort back from this arrogant fool! It is he who should be arrested! He is the coward, the prefect without the heart to kill his enemy right down to the last hunting dog. He is not worthy of your loyalty. I have proved myself to you time and again. Follow me, my brothers! Follow me! And put this dog in chains with the Silurian scum!’
Quertus thrust his sword up with a deep roar which was echoed by his most ardent followers in the gathering crowd. Cato’s heart pounded in his chest. He felt his authority slipping from his grasp with every passing moment. He must act while there was still a chance to sway the Thracian auxiliaries. He could count on the loyalty of the legionaries, but they were outnumbered. If it came to a fight, they would lose. There was only one thing he could do to save the situation. He must grasp the opportunity that Quertus had unwittingly offered him.
Drawing himself up, Cato stepped forward, out into the open between the legionaries and Quertus and his band, where all could clearly see him. He raised his arms and slowly the noise began to die down.
‘Centurion Quertus accuses me of being a coward. You all heard him. I will not take such an insult from any man! You are all brave soldiers. Only a brave officer deserves your loyalty. So let us put it to the test. Let us see who is fit to command the Blood Crows!’ He pointed his sword directly at Quertus. ‘I challenge him to fight me for the right to command. If he refuses then it proves he is the coward I say he is!’
There was a stunned silence before Quertus stepped forward and confronted Cato with a cold smile. ‘You would fight me?’ He lowered his voice so that only Cato might hear his next words. ‘You’re a damned fool, Prefect Cato. . and now you’ll die because of it.’
Quertus shrugged off his fur coat and unfastened the straps at the side of his breastplate and let it drop to the ground so that he stood in his tunic, like Cato. Except that he was nearly a head taller and broad in proportion. He let the blade of his sword rest against his shoulder. ‘Do you want to settle this with the spatha or the gladius?’
Cato thought swiftly. The cavalry sword had greater reach and weight, but he had trained to use the legionary weapon and had wielded one through every campaign he had fought in. ‘I was a legionary before I was ever a prefect. And I’ll fight as a legionary should.’
Quertus gave a wolfish grin. ‘As you wish. Then let us begin. Clear the ground there!’ he bellowed and the Thracians stepped back to create an open space twenty paces across, lit by the wavering glow of the torches held by several of their number. Above them a pallid hue was already bleeding across the sky, and Cato could see that the clouds were thinner than in the previous days, and there was even a patch that looked as if it might break to reveal the heavens. He felt a strange calmness come over him now that he was committed. Then he turned his attention to the Thracian and lowered himself into a crouch and held his sword ready.
‘There can only be one commander at Bruccium,’ he said calmly. ‘There can be no quarter asked or given. This is a fight to the death.’