A look of alarm flitted across the prefect’s face and he glanced quickly to his subordinate for reassurance before he responded. ‘What are you implying, Centurion Macro?’

‘I’m simply saying that an outsider might think that you are deliberately trying to undermine the security of this region.’

Cato, standing at Macro’s shoulder, winced. His friend was in danger of exposing the true nature of their mission to the area. He shuffled on his feet, and gently tapped Macro’s heel with the toe of his boot. Macro shot a withering glance at him, and then turned back to the prefect as Scrofa gave a false laugh.

‘And what possible reason could I have for doing that?’

‘We’ll see. Soon enough,’ Macro responded quietly. ‘Once I assume command here, I’ll make damn sure that I expose your games, and then maybe I’ll dispense a little summary justice of my own.’

‘Ah, that reminds me.’ Scrofa leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together and interlaced his fingers. ‘Perhaps I should have mentioned it earlier. A message from Caesarea arrived at the fort shortly before this meeting. That guide of yours, Symeon, brought it. Apparently the procurator decided that your request for confirmation of the appointment is outside his jurisdiction. So he’s referred the matter to the Governor of Syria. I’m afraid that means it’ll be a while yet before we receive any news. In the meantime, I’m obliged to remain in command of the cohort.’ He feigned an apologetic expression. ‘I assure you that I regret the delay as much as you do. But I am confident that Cassius Longinus will give the matter his immediate attention.’

‘I’m sure he will,’ Macro murmured. ‘Where is Symeon? I want to speak to him.’

‘I’m keeping him on the strength - we can use a good guide. But there’s no need for you to see him. Not for a while at least. Meanwhile, I’m confining you two to your quarters.’

‘Confining us to quarters?You mean you’re placing us under arrest?’

‘Not yet. But I will do if you give me any further trouble. Centurion Postumus will arrange for a guard to be set up outside your quarters.’

Macro turned to Cato and smiled grimly.’I came here to become prefect of the cohort. Now it seems I’m to be a prisoner of the cohort instead.’

‘You’re dismissed,’ Scrofa concluded curtly. ‘Postumus, see to it that they are escorted to their quarters and kept there.’

Postumus smirked. ‘With pleasure, sir.’

07 The Eagle In the Sand

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN