Macro glanced sidelong and saw Centurion Maximius lower his head helplessly. ‘Sir, I regret to report that the prisoners have escaped.’

For a moment the legate froze, a frown etched on his broad forehead, then the horse turned its head and jerked the reins still held in his hand, breaking the spell.

‘Escaped? How many?’

‘All of them, sir,’ Maximius replied with a flinch.

‘All? That’s bullshit, Centurion. How could all of them have escaped? They were under guard, weren’t they?’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘So?’

‘The guards were overpowered by some accomplices, sir. They tied ‘em up, set the prisoners free and slipped out through the ramparts.’

‘You’ve sent some men after them, I trust?’

Maximius shook his head faintly.’Only just discovered it, sir. The alarm was raised at first light.’

The legate clenched a fist at his side. He shut his eyes tightly for an instant as he fought down the rage that had been provoked by the cohort commander’s confession. Then:’Don’t you think it might be wise to send some men to look for them right now?’

‘Yes, sir. At once, sir. Tullius, see to it immediately.’

As the centurion trotted off to carry out the order Vespasian clicked his fingers and beckoned to his senior tribune. The officer immediately slid down from his saddle and trotted over.

‘Plinius, did that scout patrol have anything unusual to report?’

Tribune Plinius thought for a moment and then shook his head. ‘No, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘Right, well, I want you to return to the camp and get them all back into the saddle. They’re to sweep south, west and east of the river. If they find any of the deserters they must make every effort to bring them back alive to face punishment. If they resist, the scouts have my permission to kill them on the spot. Understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then go and see to it.’

The tribune ran back to his horse, threw himself across its back and yanked the reins round, spurring his mount towards the main camp. The hoofs flung back thick gouts of mud at the legate and the centurions of the Third Cohort, and Macro flinched as a clod splattered on his cheek.

‘Pardon me, sir.’

Macro glanced round and saw the man he had detailed to report on the number of men in the cohort’s camp.

‘Yes?’

‘There’s only one man unaccounted for. That’s Optio Figulus. All the rest of the legionaries and slaves are here in the camp.’

‘You’re sure?’ Macro raised his dark eyebrows.

‘Yes, sir. That’s not all. We found some of the quartermaster’s assistants tied up in the equipment tent. Some weapons are missing, sir.’

‘Very well, you can go.’

Macro swapped a quick look of dismay with Centurion Maximius.

‘Problem, Centurion Macro?’ asked Vespasian. ‘That is to say, yet one more problem to add to the catalogue of cock-ups for this morning?’