‘I wonder who is laughing. Macro, I’m serious. We’re in grave danger as long as Quertus remains here in the fort and challenges my authority. If we’re going to deal with him, we must do it one step at a time. Right now, we bide our time until the reinforcements turn up. Once they’re here, we can get things back to where they should be. Quertus will have little choice but to accept it.’

‘And what? We let bygones be bygones? Sir, he tried to kill you.’

‘What proof is there of that? Without proof what can I do?’

Macro opened his mouth to protest, then frowned, and shook his head. ‘Bollocks. Due legal process again, I take it.’

Cato nodded. ‘As things stand I cannot bring charges against Quertus. Not for the attempt on my life, nor for the murder of the previous prefect. Besides, there’s more to this than dealing with Quertus. You remember I mentioned that being here might have something to do with Pallas? That he might have wanted to send us someplace where there was a good chance we might be killed?’

Macro waved his spoon around. ‘You really think such a place is hard to find in this corner of the empire?’

‘We’re not in the empire. We’re well over the frontier of the province. Far enough from any help if we get into trouble. And we are in trouble. If we try and take a short cut in dealing with Quertus, you can be sure that Pallas’s man here in Britannia will have us charged with the crime. You don’t just get away with murdering a senior centurion, or bringing disciplinary charges against him without adequate evidence. Anything like that is likely to rebound on us. Especially if someone is looking for any excuse to drop us in the shit. Like I said, we have to be extremely careful. If it’s to be done, Quertus must be disposed of in a way that can be justified. You understand, Macro?’

The centurion sighed heavily. ‘This ain’t on, Cato. I thought we’d left all this sort of thing behind us. I thought we were going back to the legions to do some proper soldiering and leaving all the skulduggery to those with a taste for it.’ He shook his head, then took another, joyless, spoon of stew before muttering, ‘It ain’t on, I’m telling you.’

Cato could not help a wry smile. ‘Come now, did you ever think it would really be so simple?’