‘The Arabs then,’ Aurelius intervened. ‘Once the Nubians are dealt with we shall send a punitive expedition to deal with them. Harshly.’ He gestured to the decurion. ‘Cover them up. Take them to the legate’s quarters. Have their personal effects removed for return to their families and then tell the surgeon’s staff to prepare the bodies for cremation.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The decurion pulled the goatskin back over the corpses and climbed up on to the driver’s bench. With a click of his tongue and a flick of the reins, he urged the mule team into a walk and the wagon rumbled out of the gate of the priests’ quarters.

Aurelius watched the cart leave. The fingers of his left hand twitched momentarily before he turned to Cato and Macro with an anxious expression. ‘That explains the legate’s disappearance.’

It was an asinine thing to say and he winced at himself immediately. Cato could readily understand the shock that the death of the legate might cause his close subordinate.

‘Did you know the legate well?’

Aurelius nodded. ‘We have served together for the last eight years.’

‘So long?’ Macro looked surprised. ‘Sorry, sir, it’s just that I’ve never known a legate serve so long with one legion.’

‘Yes, well, it’s different here in Egypt,’ the camp prefect responded tersely. ‘Candidus was appointed by Emperor Tiberius at the end of his reign. The commanders of the Egyptian legions and the governor are appointed from the equestrian class. The senators are not permitted to hold high office here. For that matter, they’re not even allowed to enter the province without the express permission of the Emperor. So the appointments tend to last much longer in Egypt.’

‘What about you, sir? You can’t have been camp prefect all that time.’

‘No indeed. I’ve held the rank for the last three years. First spear centurion before that.’

Macro glanced at Cato, unable to conceal his shock. The senior centurion of the legion was traditionally its toughest, bravest and most experienced officer. The thin, dapper figure of Aurelius was adorned with a finely spun tunic and his cuirass was inlaid with swirls of gold and silver. But, unlike Macro and Cato, he did not have a leather harness to carry the medallions they had been awarded for displays of courage and battles won. In every other legion Macro had served in, the camp prefect and the first spear were seasoned fighters with swathes of awards on their chests. ‘You were a first spear, sir?’

‘I was.’ Aurelius frowned. ‘I have served my time, you know.’

Macro was about to say something when Cato coughed loudly, warning his friend off. Before Macro could intervene any further, Cato spoke. ‘What are your intentions now, sir?’

‘My intentions?’

‘Yes, sir. You are the next in the chain of command. Now that Candidus is dead, you are the commander of the forces gathered at Diospolis Magna.’