Vespasian paused. He had to be careful now. Maximius was a senior centurion, a man with a long service record, much of which he had spent in the Praetorian Guard. Such men were bound to have powerful friends and patrons in Rome, who would bear a grudge on his behalf. But whatever the risk for his future career, Vespasian felt compelled to act on his principles.

‘Maximius may have exaggerated their lack of grit.’

‘And why would he do that?’

‘For the same reason that we want to go along with his version of events.’

‘The reason being?’

‘Self-preservation.’ Vespasian mentally braced himself for a sharp retort, but the general remained still and silent, waiting for Vespasian to continue. ‘Maximius was responsible for the failure of his cohort to reach the crossing in time to defend it properly. We both know that, sir.’

‘Yes. And that’s why he shares in their punishment. He could just as easily have been selected for decimation as any of his men.’

‘True,’ Vespasian acknowledged.’But why should they share the blame for his mistake? If anyone has to be disciplined, let it be him alone. We can’t let his men be punished for his failings. What kind of example does that set?’

‘The kind of example that reminds the rest of the rabble that failure will not be tolerated in the legions under my command.’ Plautius spoke with a quiet intensity.’Whenever it is encountered I will act in a swift and merciless manner. You know the saying: “Let them hate, so long as they fear.” In some ways, the fact that innocent men are going to their deaths makes the disciplinary lesson even more effective, don’t you think?’

Vespasian stared back, feeling contempt well up inside. The general’s attitude disgusted him. What had happened to Plautius? A year ago, Vespasian’s appeal on moral grounds would have had its effect. Plautius had been hard, but had played fair with his officers and men. But now…?

‘This is insupportable, and you know it,’ Vespasian said firmly. ‘Those men are being used as scapegoats.’

‘Amongst other things, yes.’

‘And you’re prepared to use them in that way? To let them die to save your reputation?’ Another line of argument suddenly occurred to Vespasian. ‘One of the condemned men is Centurion Cato. Do you realise that?’

‘I know,’ the General nodded.’I know that well enough. But it doesn’t make any difference.’

‘Doesn’t make any difference?’ Vespasian could not hide his astonishment, or his anger. ‘You know his record well enough. We can’t afford to throw away men of his calibre.’