‘As you can see, we have been empowered to act in the Emperor’s name in all areas of Roman jurisdiction within the provinces of Judaea and Syria.We now invoke our powers under the terms of this authority.’ Cato took a breath and continued. ‘You are hereby stripped of your command of the Second Illyrian cohort.’

Scrofa looked up from the document with a shocked expression. ‘You can’t speak to me like that!’

Macro grinned as he leaned forward over the table and tapped the parchment. ‘Read it again, sunshine. We can do what we like. Anything we like. Now, citizen, I’d be grateful if you got out of my chair. I’ve got work to do. A lot of work, thanks to you.’

Scrofa wasn’t listening. His eyes scanned the document again, as if he could somehow change its meaning. Centurion Postumus straightened up and laughed. ‘This document is obviously a forgery. Something you two have cooked up while you’ve been stewing in your quarters.’

‘Forgery?’ Macro shook his head and smiled. ‘Look at the seal, Postumus.You should recognise it well enough.’

‘I still say it’s a fake. If you two think this is going to change things here, then you are bigger fools than I thought.’

The sound of voices drifted up from the courtyard. Cato hurried over to the window and glanced down. Behind Symeon, Centurion Parmenion and a handful of other officers were walking through the archway. Symeon looked up and waved. More men were emerging from the alley between the barracks opposite, heading towards the prefect’s quarters. Cato felt the knotted tension in the pit of his stomach begin to ease. He turned back, crossed to the desk and picked up the document. Before Scrofa or Postumus could react he returned to the window and held it out so all below could see it.

‘Gentlemen! By order of Emperor Claudius and the Senate of Rome, Prefect Scrofa has been removed from command of the Second Illyrian Cohort. As of this instant he has been replaced by Centurion Macro. Now, I’d be greatly obliged if you joined us in Prefect Macro’s quarters immediately.’

After the briefest of hesitation, and to Cato’s great relief, the officers shuffled towards the main entrance to the building, just below the window. As he turned back into the room Scrofa stared at him, thunderstruck. Postumus instantly grasped the implications of what was happening and a look of fear flitted across his handsome features, making Macro laugh. He could not contain the light-hearted thrill at having turned the tables on Scrofa and his subordinate. He leaned towards Postumus and tapped him on the chest.’Now who’s the bigger fool, eh?’

07 The Eagle In the Sand

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN