‘Thank you, Carausius. Rest now.’ Cato leaned back and looked across at Macro. ‘Now we know.’

Macro nodded. ‘And he sends us a direct challenge. Whatever we may think of Ajax, you have to admit that he has balls of steel.’

Archaelus cleared his throat. ‘It seems you have what you need. Would you mind continuing your discussion elsewhere now?’

Cato stood up and beckoned to Macro and the two left the banqueting hall and stepped out of the pavilion into the bright glare of the sun. The harsh light forced them to squint until their eyes began to adjust.

‘On the upside, at least we know Ajax is nearby,’ said Macro.

‘True, but not very comforting. And if he does join the Nubians then I fear our situation has taken a turn for the worse.’

The prefects of the four auxiliary cohorts, together with the centurions of the Twenty-Second Legion and the remaining tribunes, sat on benches at one end of the colonnaded pool at the army’s headquarters. Word of Candidus’s death had got round the camp and the men were conversing in low, anxious tones. Cato and Macro sat slightly apart, and the latter regarded the other officers with a critical eye.

‘Too many old men and too many who look unfit.’

Cato said nothing, but he knew that his friend was right. The long years of untroubled garrison duty had made the men of the Twenty-Second soft. A large number of the officers were running to fat - there were clear gaps between the front and back plates of their cuirasses, which could not accommodate their heavy torsos. Their fleshy jowls and veined noses betrayed their fondness for drink. There were others who looked more like the centurions Cato was familiar with from the other legions he had served with since he had joined the army. Powerfully built men who shared the steady, unflappable demeanour of the centurionate. They at least looked as if they would serve well enough when the campaign got under way. However, Macro was right that rather too many of them looked as if they were nearing the end of their careers. It was sad to see how a legion’s combat readiness could be so badly eroded by the benefits of a prolonged peace.

There was a loud stamp of boots as the sentries at the entrance to the colonnade stood to attention and an optio barked out. ‘Commanding officer present!’

The officers rose and stood stiffly as Aurelius strode down the length of the pool, his reflection wavering in its surface as a light gust of hot air wafted over the water. He took up his position behind a campaign table and stared round at his officers in a theatrical manner, as if seeing them for the first time.

‘Be seated, gentlemen.’