They followed the young Praetorian into the entrance hall and then right into a long chamber with offices on one side and long tables where clerks sat between piles of waxed slates and baskets of scrolls. Long slits high up on the walls provided barely enough illumination for the men to work and Cato saw some squinting at the smaller details of the records in front of them. He was still smarting from the frosty reception that he and Macro had received since arriving at the camp. Cato had grown too used to the automatic deference of the lower ranks in recent years and it was an uncomfortable jolt back to the first days of his army service to be treated as a common soldier once again. No longer was he Prefect Cato, he was merely Guardsman Capito, and he must live and breathe the part he was forced to play. The same was true for Macro. Glancing to his side as they strode past the first office doors, Cato saw that Macro looked unperturbed by the small dressing-down they had just received. That was a surprise, Cato thought. He would expect Macro, of all people, to rankle at such treatment.

‘Here we are,’ the Praetorian announced. He indicated the nearest door. Unlike most of the other offices in the chamber, the door to this one was closed. ‘Centurion Sinius’s office.’

He paused briefly to give the new arrivals a chance to compose themselves and then knocked.

‘A moment!’ a muffled voice called from inside. There was a short delay. ‘Come in!’

The young soldier lifted the latch and swung the door inwards. He stepped into the doorway, stood to attention and bowed his head. ‘Beg to report that the optio of the watch on the main gate ordered me to escort two recruits to headquarters, sir.’

Cato, being taller than most men, was able to see over the Praetorian’s shoulder into the office. The centurion closed a waxed tablet and tidied it away into a small document chest on the side of his desk. Sinius looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, too young to have won promotion from the ranks; Cato guessed he must have been directly appointed to the centurionate. A member of a wealthy equestrian family who had relinquished his social privileges to join the Praetorian Guard. Unusually for a Roman the officer had fair hair, with a light wave that was carefully combed in an attempt to hide the premature onset of baldness. He was a slender man, sinewy with a hard face. However, when he looked up he smiled warmly.

‘Very well, show them in.’