Macro struggled to match pace with the guards as they weaved their way through a wave of exotic faces – Syrians and Gauls, Nubians and Jews. Synagogues and a variety of temples he hadn’t seen before loomed between the tenements along the main thoroughfare.

‘A word to the wise,’ said the guard. ‘From one soldier to another. Things aren’t like they used to be around here. A lot’s changed.’

‘Oh?’ Macro asked, his interest piqued. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Claudius may be Emperor, but his accession hasn’t exactly been smooth. That unfortunate business of Caligula getting the chop a few months back caused a bit of a mess.’

‘As I recall,’ said Macro frostily, ‘it was one of your own who stuck his blade into Caligula.’

News of the assassination of the previous Emperor in January had been greeted with a mixture of dismay and relief by the men in the Second. Dismay that there was a chance they might return to the days of the Republic, but relief that Caligula’s reign had ended. The Emperor had been dogged by scandals. It was common knowledge that he’d committed incest with his sisters and turned the imperial palace into a brothel, and an attempt on his life from the offended aristocracy and Senate had been all-too predictable. In the end a trio of officers from the Praetorian Guard, led by Cassius Chaerea, had taken matters into their own hands. The conspirators had stabbed Caligula thirty times, slain his wife and smashed his young daughter’s head against a wall to end the bloodline. For a short while, a new Roman republic had seemed on the cards. Until the Praetorians turned to Claudius.

The guard stopped in his tracks and, turning to face Macro, lowered his voice. ‘Look, between you and me, old Chaerea was a decent bloke, but he never had much support among the Guard. He forgot the golden rule. Praetorians stick by our Emperor through thick and thin.’ He paused, took a calming breath and continued. ‘Anyway, after Caligula died a few unsavoury types crawled out of the woodwork, announcing they were opposed to Claudius becoming Emperor. One or two of them had the idea that they deserved the job instead. Or worse, wanted to turn Rome into a republic again! To have us return to the dark days of civil war and bloodletting on the streets . . .’ The guard shivered at the thought. ‘Obviously the Emperor can’t rule with dissent in the ranks.’

‘Obviously,’ Macro said.

‘Right. So we’ve had to spend these last few months rooting out the ones who were opposed to Claudius and make them disappear.’

Macro made a face. ‘Disappear?’