39 The Last Great BattleThat morning the sun rose as though it expected death. The leaves of the oak forest where the Legions lay, the forces of the Legate, Suetonius, were tinged with a strange reddish glow which troubled the older ones, the soldiers who had seen service under the Eagles half-way across the world.
As they stood, or sat, here and there, in avenue and glade, by stream and under bush, they shook their heads as they gave another rub to the short-sword they were burnishing or the javelin-head they were hammering fast on to its ash-stave.
‘I saw such a dawn in Egypt once,’ said one. ‘That day we were cut to ribbons. Half the Legion went.’
Another said, ‘I buried my last month’s pay and that little belt with the golden lion’s-head clasp that I was taking home for my son at th
