‘I don’t recall there being quite as much effort being put into the invasion of Britannia,’ Cato responded with an ironic grin. ‘But then Claudius was only out to win a new province for the empire. Now he’s out to win the heart of the mob, an objective of far more strategic importance at present - assuming he lives long enough to appease their taste for gladiator fights, not to mention their hunger. I’d say the odds are stacking up against Claudius.’

They turned their attention to the imperial party as the official in charge of organising the spectacle made his report to the Emperor. Even at a distance of over a hundred paces Cato could see that Claudius was giving the man his full attention. Every now and then his head twitched violently as he limped alongside the official.

‘Not such an enviable thing being the Emperor, is it?’ Cato said in a reflective tone. ‘Enemies on all sides, and those closest to him are by far the more dangerous.’

‘You talk utter bollocks at times, Cato,’ Macro responded. ‘You think our lives are any less at risk than Claudius’s? I don’t think so, and I have the scars to prove it, and so do you. In any case, there are one or two perks that go with the job of being the absolute ruler of the greatest empire in the world. I think I might just get used to the occupational hazards.’

‘It’s one thing to face a man with a sword in a straight fight. Quite another to walk into a room full of people, knowing that many of them would as happily stab you in the back as offer you a greeting and promise undying loyalty. Speaking of which, where’s Tigellinus?’ Cato scanned the imperial party, anxiously looking for the centurion.

‘He’s over there, with Burrus and the others.’ Macro pointed towards the handful of men clustered around Tribune Burrus who was still in the saddle. Cato saw the tall figure of the centurion and let out a quiet sigh of relief. Macro heard the soft escape of breath and looked at his friend.

‘When do you think Tigellinus is going to make his move?’

Cato thought for a moment. ‘He might make an attempt at the first chance he gets, provided he has no regard for his own life. But from what I’ve seen of the man, I doubt he’ll throw it away if there is any hope of saving it. If I were Tigellinus I’d bide my time until I was close to the Emperor, and with as few others surrounding him as possible. Then I might have a chance to escape after striking the blow. So, when the Sixth Century is close to the Emperor, we stay closer still to Tigellinus.’