Cato was still for a moment, focusing his thoughts before he told Florianus about the meeting with Narcissus in the imperial palace nearly three months earlier, at the end of March. Before then Macro and Cato had spent several months training recruits for the urban cohorts - the units assigned to police Rome’s streets.The recruits were the type of men who would never be selected for the legions, and the two centurions had done their best to kick them into shape. It had been a thankless task, but even though Cato had been desperate to return to active service, the summons of the Imperial Secretary had filled him with foreboding.

The last mission that the imperial agent had sent them on had been a near suicidal operation to retrieve some scrolls, vital to the security of the Empire, from the clutches of a gang of pirates who had been preying on shipping along the coast of Illyricum.The Sybilline scrolls completed a set of sacred prophecies that were supposed to describe in some detail the future of Rome, and its ultimate fate. Naturally, the Emperor’s right hand man had to win possession of such a treasure to safeguard his master and the Empire he served. Cato and Macro had been assigned training duties as a ‘reward’ for successfully finding the scrolls and delivering them safely into the hands of the Imperial Secretary. Macro was on leave when the messenger from Narcissus arrived at the barracks and so Cato approached the palace alone just as dusk thickened about the grimy walls and sooty tiles of the city.

An early spring storm was raging across the city as Cato entered the palace complex. He was escorted to the suite of the Imperial Secretary and then ushered into Narcissus’ office by one of his neatly groomed clerks. Cato handed his drenched cape to the clerk before he crossed the room and sat on the chair that Narcissus waved him towards. Behind the Imperial Secretary was a glazed window through the panes of which the view of the city was distorted. Black clouds billowed across the sky, illuminated every so often by a dazzling flash of lightning that, for an instant, froze the city in brilliant whiteness, before the vision was snatched away and Rome was plunged once more into the shadows.

‘Rested, I hope?’ Narcissus attempted to look concerned. ‘It’s been several months since that campaign against the pirates.’

‘I’ve been keeping fit,’ Cato replied carefully. ‘I’m ready to return to active service. So is Macro.’

‘Good. That’s good.’ Narcissus nodded. ‘And where is my friend Centurion Macro?’

Cato stifled a choke. The idea that Macro and this effete bureaucrat might be considered friends was sublimely ridiculous. He cleared his throat. ‘On leave. He went to Ravenna to see his mother. She hasn’t got over her loss.’

Narcissus frowned. ‘Her loss?’

‘Her man was killed during the final attack on the pirates.’