‘All right then. Five thousand. For a half share of the profits.’

‘Four-tenths, I said.’

‘Split the difference,’ Macro said desperately.

‘Four-tenths.’

He gritted his teeth and glared at her before he eventually nodded. ‘Shit. I give in. But keep your hands off my things from now on.’

His mother smiled sweetly and patted his cheek. ‘I knew you’d see sense. And you’ll do very nicely out of it in due course, I promise you.’

Macro wondered about that. His mother, like most small business owners, was as adept at cooking the books as she was at cooking cheap meals for her customers. Still, at least Portia would have the means to make an independent living and that suited Macro, who would rather not have to worry about her when he marched off to fight the enemy. In any case, if she was right then he would earn a tidy profit from his investment.

The serving girl came over with their order, steam curling up from the wine jar and the bowls of stew. She set the tray down with a rattling thump and ungraciously set their bowls before them, together with the plain clay cups and bronze spoons. She sniffed and wiped the cuff of her long-sleeved tunic on her nose.

‘Nine sestertii.’

Before Cato could reach for his purse, Macro interrupted. ‘I’ll pay. Might as well, since it seems to be my day for being fleeced.’

He fumbled in his purse for a handful of coins and slapped them into the grubby hand of the serving girl, who counted them quickly before returning to the counter. Portia watched her closely with cold eyes.

‘It would seem,’ she spoke softly, ‘that there are going to be a few changes when I take over this place. That girl, for one, needs some lessons in how to mend her appearance and her manner.’

‘Let’s eat,’ said Cato, lifting his spoon, anxious to put an end to the carping between Macro and his mother. They were hungry and ate in silence and Cato’s thoughts inevitably drifted back to Julia in Rome. It would be years before he was released from his duties in Britannia. At some point he would have to ask her to give up the comforts and pleasures of her life in Rome to come and join him. He was under no illusions about the basic conditions of life in a frontier fortress, or a provincial town. It would not worry him, but he feared that it would not be good enough for Julia.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices outside in the courtyard and a moment later two officers entered. He recognised them from the governor’s headquarters. Junior tribunes serving with the Ninth Legion. He swallowed the stew still in his mouth and dabbed his lips on the back of his hands before calling out to them.

‘Care to join us?’

The two young men hesitated and Cato chuckled. ‘The drinks are on me.’

The taller of the two, with fine dark hair, smiled. ‘Well, since you put it like that!’