‘ Hearts and minds?’ Centurion Florianus laughed as ‘he poured the new arrivals some lemon-scented water, and slid the cups across the marble top of the desk in his office. His quarters were in one of the towers of the massive fortress of the Antonia, built by Herod the Great and named after his patron Mark Antony. These days it was garrisoned by the Roman troops charged with policing Jerusalem. From the narrow balcony outside his office he had a fine view out over the temple and the old quarter of the city beyond. He had been roused from his seat by the terrified cries of the crowd and had been witness to Macro and Cato’s desperate skirmish. ‘Hearts and minds,’ he repeated. ‘Did the procurator really say that?’

‘He did.’ Macro nodded. ‘And more besides. A whole speech on the importance of maintaining good relations with the Judaeans.’

‘Good relations?’ Florianus shook his head. ‘That’s a laugh. You can’t have good relations with people who hate your guts. This lot would stick a knife in your back the moment you dared turn away from them. Bloody province is a disaster. Always has been. Even when we let Herod and his heirs run things.’

‘Really?’ Cato cocked his head slightly to the side. ‘That’s not what you hear back in Rome. As far as I was aware the situation in the province was supposed to be improving. At least, that was the official line.’

‘Sure, that’s what they tell people.’ Florianus laughed bitterly. ‘The truth is that the only places we control are the larger towns and cities. All the routes between are plagued by bandits and brigands. And even the towns are riven by political and religious factions jockeying for influence over their people. It’s not helped by the fact there are so many dialects that the only common tongue is Greek, and not many of ‘em speak that. Hardly a month goes by without some trouble flaring up between Idumaeans or Samaritans or someone. It’s getting out of hand. Those people you had a fight with in the Great Courtyard were from one of the gangs hiring themselves out to the political factions. They use the sicarians to kill off rivals, or make a political point - like this morning’s demonstration.’

‘That was a demonstration?’ Macro shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Just making a political point? I’d hate to get into a full scale row with those bastards.’