‘Oh, yes,’ Macro snorted,’I know. And I also know what can happen to the men of those units that are held responsible. I don’t fancy ending my days in some imperial mine. And what if he was killed? You’d be in command.’ Macro gave the other man a hard stare. ‘Frankly, I don’t think you’re up to the job.’

Tullius looked down before Macro could see the pained expression in his eyes. ‘You’re probably right . . . I could have done it once, years ago. But I was never given the chance.’

Quite, thought Macro, and his lips curled in contempt.

Tullius looked up. ‘Macro, you could take command.’

‘No.’

‘Why not? I’m sure the men would follow you. I’d follow you.’

‘I said no.’

‘All we need to do is make sure that Maximius’ death doesn’t look suspicious.’

Macro’s hand shot out and grabbed the older man by the shoulder. He shook Tullius to emphasise his words. ‘I said no. Got that? One more word out of you and I’ll hand you over to Maximius myself. I’ll even volunteer for the job of executioner.’ He let his hand slip back to his side. ‘Don’t ever talk to me about this again.’

‘But why?’

‘Because he’s our commander. It’s not our job to question him, just obey his orders.’

‘And if he gives us orders that’ll get us killed? What then?’

‘Then . . .’ Macro shrugged, ‘then we die.’

Tullius looked at him with a startled expression. ‘You’re as mad as he is.’

‘Maybe. But we’re soldiers, not senators. We’re here to do as we’re told and fight - there’s no debating the issue. That’s what we signed up to when we joined the Eagles. We swore an oath, you and me. That’s all there is to it.’

Tullius stared at him, then jabbed a finger into Macro’s chest. ‘Then you are mad.’

‘Gentlemen!’

They both turned round in alarm at the sound of Maximius’ voice. He had finished his briefing and started towards them without the two officers being aware of their superior’s approach. At the sight of their surprised and alarmed expressions a frown flitted over Maximius’ face before he smiled genially.

‘You two look like you’re about to knock seven shades out of each other!’

Tullius forced out a weak laugh, and Macro made himself smile as the older centurion replied,’A minor disagreement, sir. No more than that.’

‘Good. What were you disagreeing about?’

‘Nothing really, sir. Nothing worth mentioning.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ Maximius smiled again. ‘So tell me.’

Tullius glanced at Macro and flapped a hand in the air between them. ‘A difference of opinion, sir, a professional difference of opinion. I was saying that we’d have finished the enemy off a lot sooner if we’d had some of the Praetorian Guard units fighting alongside us.’