The legate tore his gaze away from the tomb and frowned at Macro. ‘Certainly not. A legate should share the same dangers as his men. Otherwise he is not fit to command them.’

‘Yes, sir. Shall we begin then?’

‘Yes . . . Yes, of course.’ Aurelius strode across to the bundle of torches and picked one up. He lowered it into the fire and let it catch light, then stood by the steps leading down to the tomb entrance. Macro lit another torch and detailed two of the archers to go first, one with an arrow notched, the other holding a torch. Macro was about to follow them when Cato paced over to pick up a torch.

‘You’d better stay here, sir,’ Macro said firmly.

Cato shook his head. ‘I’m coming.’

‘Not with that arm in a sling. The first stretch of the tunnel looks steep. We’ll need to keep a hand spare to stop stumbling. You’ll only get in the way, sir. Be more of a hindrance than a help.’ Macro meant it in a kindly fashion but Cato shot him a sour look.

‘Thanks. But if you think I’m prepared to sit by while you go up against Ajax, then you’re mad.’

‘The centurion’s right,’ Aurelius interrupted. ‘You’ll stay here with the rest of the men until it’s over. That’s an order.’

Cato’s lips pressed together in a thin line for a moment before he responded through clenched teeth. ‘Yes, sir.’

He backed away and sat on a rock that overlooked the cut steps. He watched sullenly as the archers entered the tomb, then Macro descended the stairs, followed by Hamedes. Cato cleared his throat and called down.

‘Take care, Macro . . . Watch your back.’