‘That all but concludes the formalities, gentlemen. There only remains one final matter before I inspect the men.’ Cato paused, knowing that what he was about to say would come as a shock to Macro, but it was a necessary step in the present circumstances. The cheering of the Thracians a moment earlier simply confirmed his decision. He cleared his throat. ‘I have decided to appoint you as my second-in-command, Centurion Quertus. You have the ear of the men and know them well. Do you accept?’

He stared at Quertus, until at length the Thracian’s lips curled in a slight smile and he said, ‘I accept, sir.’

‘Good. I trust you will carry out your responsibilities in an efficient, and obedient, manner.’

‘Of course. You can rest assured that I will give you the benefit of my experience and advice, for as long as you command the garrison, sir.’

‘I thank you. Now, I’d like to inspect the men. Have the Thracians dismount and form two lines.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Quertus offered a salute and then turned away to descend the platform and stride across to his men, bellowing orders.

Cato stared after him, acutely aware of the silent presence of Macro at his shoulder.

‘I imagine that you are wondering about my decision.’

‘Not my place to, sir,’ Macro replied curtly. ‘You are the commander of the garrison. You give the orders.’