‘No chance. I’m a proper soldier. Spent seventeen years with the Third Gallica up near Damascus, the last as an optio. Then I took a transfer into the Second Illyrian with promotion to centurion. Been here ever since. Should be demobbed within the next year or two.’

‘I see.’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘With someone of your background here, I was just wondering how the place came to be in such a state.’

Parmenion did not respond until all three of them were standing on the small platform of the watchtower, in the shade of the palm thatch roof. Around them the desert unravelled to the horizon, shimmering in the glare of the sun. But Parmenion’s gaze was fixed on Macro. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the cohort, Centurion Macro. Not the rankers at least,’ he said guardedly.

‘And the officers?’

Parmenion stared back at Macro, and glanced at Cato. ‘Why are you asking me that? What are you after?’

‘Nothing,’ Macro replied easily. ‘It’s just that I should be assuming command of the cohort soon, and I’ll want to make a few changes . . .a few improvements. I was just curious about how the cohort came to be in the state that it is. In my experience, a unit is only as good as its officers.’

Parmenion seemed satisfied by the explanation and he tilted his head slightly.’Most of ‘em are sound enough. Or were, until Centurion Postumus turned up. That was under the previous commander.’

‘What difference did Postumus make?’ asked Cato.

‘None, at first. The previous adjutant had died after a long illness. Postumus was sent down to us from Damascus as a replacement. Like Scrofa after him. He did his duties conscientiously enough. Then he started volunteering for command of the patrols into the desert.You can imagine that made him very popular amongst those of us who had no great desire to spend days riding around in the sun and the dust. Anyway, that was the situation until the previous commander received a visit from the representative of one of the caravan cartels. Seems that he accused Postumus of operating some kind of protection scam on his caravans. The prefect wanted some hard evidence and went on the next patrol with Postumus. And didn’t come back.’

Cato raised his eyebrows.’That might be seen as quite convenient for Centurion Postumus, from a cynical point of view.’

‘Quite.’ Parmenion smiled. ‘Anyway, Scrofa turned up and nothing has been done about the accusations since then.’

There was a pause before Cato asked, ‘Are you saying that the prefect has been cut in on the deal? What about the other officers?’

Parmenion shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘About what?’ Cato persisted.

Macro interrupted impatiently. ‘Something is going on here. The officers appear divided and the men don’t seem to care about their duties. Any fool can see it.’