Florianus smiled briefly before he continued. ‘Of course, the procurators rarely see that side of things from Caesarea. They just sit on their arses and send out directives to the field officers, like me, to make sure the taxes are paid. And when I send them reports on how shit the situation is, they bury them and tell Rome that they’re making great progress on settling things down in the sunny little province of Judaea.’ He shook his head. ‘Can hardly blame them, I suppose. If they told the truth it’d look as though they were losing their grip. The Emperor would have them replaced at once. So you can forget about what you’ve been told back in Rome. Frankly, I doubt we’ll ever tame these Judaeans. Any attempt to Romanise them slips away quicker than crap through a goose.’

Cato pursed his lips. ‘But the new procurator - Tiberius Julius Alexander - he’s a Judaean, and he seemed more Roman than most Romans I’ve ever met.’

‘Of course he does.’ Florianus smiled. ‘He’s from a wealthy family.Wealthy enough to be raised and educated by Greek tutors in expensive Roman academies. After that someone was kind enough to set him up with a glittering commercial career in Alexandria. Surprise, surprise - he ends up rich. Rich enough to be a friend of the Emperor and his freedmen.’ Florianus snorted. ‘Do you know, I’ve spent more time in this land than he has. That’s how much of a local boy he is.The procurator may have pulled the wool over the eyes of Claudius, and that Imperial Secretary of his, Narcissus, but the people here can smell a rat.That’s always been the trouble. Right from the outset, when we made Herod the Great their king. Typical one pattern fits all approach to diplomacy. Just because we’ve managed to impose a king and ruling class in other lands we assumed the same thing would work here. Well, it hasn’t.’

‘Why not?’ Macro interrupted. ‘What’s so special about Judaea?’

‘Ask them!’ Florianus waved his hand towards the balcony. ‘Eight years I’ve been posted here and there’s hardly a man amongst them I can call a friend.’He paused to take a long draught from his cup and set it down with a sharp rap. ‘So you can forget any notion of winning their hearts and minds. It’s not going to happen. They hate the Kittim, as they call us.The best we can do is grab ‘em by the balls and hang on until they cough up the taxes they are due to hand over.’

‘Colourful image.’ Macro shrugged. ‘Reminds me of that bastard Gaius Caligula. What was it he used to say, Cato?’

‘Let them hate, as long as they fear me . . .’