‘Quiet enough, sir. He’s given up demanding better food and quarters.’

‘Good.’ Cato nodded. ‘Because he’s not getting them. Open the door. We need to speak to him.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The guard eased the heavy iron bolt back, lifted the latch and pulled the door open. Cato ducked his head under the lintel and entered the cell, with Macro close behind him. Inside was a small but neat chamber with a bed on either side, and a slop bucket by the door. High up was a grated window which let in light during the day. Now that it was dark a single oil lamp gleamed from a bracket above the bed on which Scrofa lay, reading a scroll by the meagre illumination of the wavering flame. He sat up as they entered, eyeing them warily.

‘What do you want?’

Macro smiled. ‘Just a little chat, Scrofa. That’s all.’ He sat down on the bed opposite Scrofa. Cato placed his torch in a wall bracket and sat down next to Macro. Scrofa’s gaze flickered nervously from one to the other.

‘No need for alarm, Scrofa,’ said Macro. ‘We just need to talk.’

‘For now,’ Cato added darkly.

‘That’ll do,’ Macro said with a look of irritation. ‘There’s no need to frighten the man.’

‘I’m not frightened.’ Scrofa tried to sound brave as he glared at Cato. ‘I’m not scared of you, boy.’

Cato leaned forward and grasped the handle of his dagger, causing Scrofa to flinch back with a gasp of panic.

Macro clamped a hand on his friend’s arm.’Easy there!’

For a moment the three men were still: Cato leaning forward with a look of intense, cruel anger, Scrofa staring back anxiously and Macro struggling to keep a straight face at the act his friend was putting on. Or at least, he assumed that Cato was putting it on. He cleared his throat.

‘It’s time you were honest with us, Scrofa.’

‘Honest?’

‘Yes. I’m sure that it doesn’t come easily to you, but you will need to tell us the truth. Now then, in view of the rather unusual manner in which I replaced you as prefect of the Second Illyrian, and given that the Emperor’s personal authority was attached to the document you saw, I assume that you have realised who Cato and I are working for.’

‘Narcissus.’

‘The very man. As you know full well, it is his job to look after the security of the Emperor. So you’ll understand why he is a little perturbed by the turn of events out here in the east. Particularly concerning the unwholesome ambitions of your friend, Cassius Longinus - the Governor of Syria.’

Scrofa’s brow furrowed in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’