‘So Scrofa turns up here and Postumus plays him like a lyre. He encourages him to lay into the locals, involves him in the caravan protection racket and is the real commander of the cohort. And if Longinus’ plans don’t work out in the end then the blame can be laid at Scrofa’s door. Longinus blames any rebellion on Scrofa and has him done away with before he can be returned to Rome to be investigated. Longinus is seen to act decisively, the Judaeans get to see us punish the man held responsible for causing the trouble, and Postumus is still in position. Longinus wins every way.’ Cato shook his head. ‘We’ve got the wrong man. Postumus is the one. He’s Longinus’ agent.’

Macro considered this for a moment, then he released Scrofa and backed away, sitting down on the opposite bed again. He handed the dagger back to Cato and nodded towards Scrofa. ‘So what do we do with him?’

‘Keep him safe. In case he’s needed as a witness against Longinus.’ Cato glanced at Scrofa.’You understand what’s going on? You’ve been used all along.’

‘No.’ Scrofa frowned. ‘Longinus is my patron. My friend.’

‘Some friend!’ Macro snorted and looked at Cato with a wry expression. ‘Oh, you can see why he chose this beauty for the job.’

‘Quite.’ Cato kept his eyes on Scrofa. ‘Listen, you know what I said makes sense. You don’t owe Longinus any loyalty.The man has betrayed you. As he’ll betray the Emperor and Rome if he gets the chance. You have to help us.’

‘Help you?’ Scrofa smiled. ‘Why should I help you? Until you two turned up I was raking it in. Now, you’ve taken my command from me, thrown me in this cell and assaulted me. Why should I help you?’

‘He’s got a point,’ said Macro.

‘He’s got no choice,’ Cato replied. ‘Longinus can’t afford to let him live. He already knows too much, even if he can’t quite believe it yet. He helps us or he’s dead. Simple as that.’

Scrofa looked at Cato and chewed his lip. ‘You’re serious about Longinus?’

‘Very.’

Scrofa shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it.’

No one spoke for a moment and Macro could not help feeling sorry for the wretched man on the other bed. Scrofa had no place in the army. He was lazy, corrupt, incompetent and too stupid to see beyond his dreams of glory. But he might yet be of some use. He might yet redeem himself. Macro stood up.

‘Come on, Cato. Let’s go. There’s nothing more we can learn here.’

Just before the door was closed on him Scrofa called out, ‘Please, let me out of this cell. I swear I’ll cause no trouble.’