Cato pursed his lips briefly. ‘It’s all very well to appeal to patriotism, sir, but the fact is that it makes precious little difference who runs the empire from the point of view of the likes of Calidus and me. Whether it’s Emperor Claudius in power or you and your friends makes no odds to the people of Rome, or to us soldiers.’ Cato paused. ‘As long as there’s an emperor, then there’s a Praetorian Guard, and we do well enough out of the pay and perks. If you’re planning to put your own man on the throne then we’re still in a job, and we’ll have picked up a nice little bonus for services rendered to you. However, if you’re planning on doing away with the emperors and handing power back to the senate, then we stand to lose out, unless we’re handsomely rewarded now. So, pardon me for looking out for number one. In any case, I don’t suppose for an instant that your lot won’t be passing up the chance to make your fortunes out of a change of regime. There are no pure motives in politics, are there, sir?’

‘Ha! What are you, Capito? A soldier, or a student of political affairs?’

Cato eased his shoulders back and stood erect. ‘I’m a soldier. One who has served long enough to know that his first loyalty is to himself and his comrades. The rest is merely eyewash for fools.’

There was a tense silence in the small office before Centurion Sinius smiled. ‘It’s reassuring to know that your only loyalty is to yourself. Men like you are a known quantity. As long as you are paid then you can be relied upon. Unless, of course, you encounter a more generous paymaster.’

‘True.’ Cato nodded. ‘Which is why you and your friends will see to it that we’re paid well if you want to keep us on your side. All the same, if you try to play any tricks on us, then I promise you won’t live long to regret it.’

Sinius leaned back in his chair with a contemptuous expression. ‘We understand each other well enough. Just do as you are told and take your reward, and when it’s all over you keep quiet.’

‘You needn’t worry,’ said Macro. ‘We know how to keep our mouths shut.’

‘Then see that you do.’ Sinius picked the severed digit up between thumb and forefinger and dropped it into an old rag. He wrapped the soiled cloth round the noisome object and placed it in a small chest where he kept his styli and pens. Snapping the lid shut, Sinius glanced up at the other men. ‘That’s all for now.’

‘Not quite all,’ Macro growled. ‘Our money.’