Centurion Read Online Free PDF

can’t afford to lose any before the campaign begins.’
    ‘Go easy on ‘em?’ Macro frowned. ‘Will I fuck. If they can’t hack it now, then they never will when the real fighting starts.’
    Cato shrugged. ‘I thought we needed every man.’
    ‘Every man, yes. But not one makeweight.’
    Cato was silent for a moment. ‘This is not the Second Legion, Macro. We can’t expect too much from the men of an auxiliary cohort.’
    ‘Really?’ Macro’s expression hardened. ‘The Second Illyrian ain’t just any cohort. It’s my cohort. And if I want the men to march, fight and die as hard as the men of the legions, then they will do it. Understand?’
    Cato nodded.
    ‘And you will do your part in making that happen.’
    Cato’s back stiffened.’Of course I will, sir. Have I ever let you down?’
    They stared at each other for a moment before Macro suddenly laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘Not yet! You’ve got balls of solid iron, boy. I just hope the rest of the men can match you.’
    ‘So do I,’ Cato replied evenly.
    Macro rose to his feet and rubbed his buttocks, which had lost a little feeling after some hours on the hard wooden bench of the inn. He picked up his centurion’s vine stick. ‘Let’s go.’
    They set off through the forum, already filling with brothel touts and sellers of trinkets and the first of the off-duty soldiers from the camp. Fresh-faced recruits hung together in loud packs as they made for the nearest bars, where they would be fleeced by experienced conmen and swindlers who knew them for what they were and had all manner of petty rackets at their fingertips. Cato felt a twinge of pity for the recruits but knew that only experience would teach them what they needed to know.A few sore heads and the loss of their purses would ensure they kept their wits about them in the future, if they lived long enough.
    As ever, there was a strict division between the men of the legions and those of the auxiliary cohorts. The legionaries were paid far more and tended to regard the non-citizen soldiers of the Empire with a degree of professional disdain – a sentiment which Cato could understand, and Macro wholly agreed with. The feeling extended beyond the camp and into the streets of Antioch where the men from the cohorts generally kept a respectful distance from the legionaries. But not all of them, it seemed. As Cato and Macro turned on to one of the streets leading from the forum they heard an angry exchange of shouts a short distance ahead. Beneath the glow of a large copper lamp hanging over the entrance to a bar a small crowd had gathered round two men who had tumbled out into the street and now rolled in the gutter in a mad flurry of blows.
    ‘There’s trouble,’ Macro grumbled.
    ‘Want to give it a miss?’
    Macro watched the fight for a moment as they approached and then shrugged. ‘Don’t see why we should get involved. Let ‘em sort it out amongst themselves.’
    Just then there was a brief fiery glimmer in the hand of one of the fighting men and someone cried out, ‘He’s got a knife!’
    ‘Shit,’ Macro growled. ‘Now we’re involved. Come on!’
    He increased his pace, and thrust aside some of the other men who had come out of the bar to investigate the commotion.
    ‘Oi!’A burly man in a red tunic turned on Macro.’Watch where you’re going there!’
    ‘Hold your tongue!’ Macro raised his vine stick so that the man, and all the others, could see it, and pushed his way through to the men fighting in the gutter. ‘Break it up, you two! That’s an order.’
    There was one final scuffle and a deep explosive grunt and then the men rolled apart. One, a thin wiry man in a legionary tunic, moved like a cat on to his feet and rose in a crouch, ready to continue the fight in an instant. Macro rounded on him, brandishing his vine stick.
    ‘It’s over, I said.’
    Then Cato saw the small blade in the man’s hand. It no longer glittered, but was obscured