‘You’re relieved.’ Macro leaned back and popped his head round the door frame. The clerk was heading back to the top of the stairs. ‘Hey!’

The clerk turned round and stared at Macro for a moment, then glanced past him towards Scrofa with a questioning expression. ‘Sir?

‘Centurion Scrofa is no longer in command.’ Macro stepped between them and continued, ‘I want to see all the centurions and decurions in here straight away.’

‘Even the duty officers, sir?’

Macro paused. With Bannus and his men still in the area, that would not be wise. ‘No. Not them. I’ll meet them later. Now go!’

When he turned back into the office Scrofa had recovered some composure and was sitting back in his chair. He looked at Macro with an angry frown. ‘Explain yourself. What in Hades is going on here?’

Macro, conscious of his pressing need to collect a strong force of men and go in search of Cato and Symeon, strode across the room and stood in front of the table.’It’s simple.Your appointment was temporary. I have been given orders by the imperial staff to take command of the Second Illyrian. There’s no time for any changeover ceremony, Scrofa. I need the mounted contingent ready for action immediately.’

Scrofa shook his head. ‘Impossible! Cassius Longinus assured me that he would send to Rome to have my appointment made permanent.’

‘Look,’ Macro said in a gentler tone, desperate to take command as soon as possible, ‘I don’t know anything about that. All I know is that I was sent to Bushir with orders to take command.’

The sound of footsteps came from the landing and a moment later Centurion Postumus strode into the room. Scrofa raised an arm and pointed at Macro.’This man says he has been sent from Rome to take command of the cohort.’

Postumus shrugged.’He was with the auxiliary cavalry being pursued to the fort, sir.’

‘There is another officer, and a guide, still out there, hiding,’ Macro said urgently. ‘I must take some men out to find them.’

‘I’ll deal with that in a moment,’ said Scrofa. ‘Once we’ve sorted the situation out.’

‘There’s nothing to sort out!’ Macro shouted, his temper finally snapping. ‘I’m in command! You have been replaced. Now stand aside. I’m meeting the cohort’s officers in here. Take your slave and return to your quarters.’

‘I’ll do no such thing! How dare you come in here and treat me like this? Who sent you from Rome?’

‘I told you. I’m acting on the orders of the imperial office.’

Centurion Postumus coughed loudly and stepped up to the table to confront Macro. ‘Excuse me, sir. If you’re acting on orders, might we see them?’

‘What?’ Macro stared at him.

‘Your orders, sir. The confirmation of your appointment. ‘

‘Bloody hell! All right then. I’ll get them. They’re in my saddlebag . . .’