‘Poor Lavinia.’

‘Poor Lavinia?’ Flavia’s eyebrows arched. ‘My dear boy, that’s what she was raised for. You must have come across her type at the palace in all those years? They were virtually a fixture under the last two Emperors.’

‘That’s true enough,’ admitted Cato. ‘But my father did his best to keep me away from them. He told me to save myself for something better.’

‘He did? And you think Lavinia’s something better?’

‘I don’t know what she is, all I know is how I feel about her. Am I making any sense, my lady?’

‘Oh yes. It’s your first experience of infatuation. Sounds like you’ve got it bad — but don’t worry, it’ll soon pass. It always does.’

Cato glared at her and said with bitterness, ‘Do all older people think like that?’

‘Not all. But young people do. That’s their charm and their curse.’ Flavia smiled. ‘I understand your feelings, really I do. You’ll see that what I say is true in a few years’ time. You won’t thank me for it now, or then. But let’s try another perspective. What do you think Lavinia thinks about you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Cato admitted. ‘She hasn’t got to know me yet.’

Flavia smiled gently and kept quiet for a moment.

‘All right, my lady — I haven’t got to know her either.’

‘Good boy, you’re beginning to see reason. It’s important that you try to keep a clear head over this situation. My husband thinks you show promise, so don’t do something rash which might return to haunt you later. That’s all I’m trying to say. Now then, do you want to see her again?’

‘Yes.’

Flavia smiled. ‘Just as I thought.’

‘You’re disappointed with me, my lady.’

‘On the contrary. A man who has a passion that overrides logic can be trusted in his principles. Only a fool values logic above feeling; sophists can reason themselves to accept any and all principles and therefore cannot be trusted. You have a heart as well as a mind, Cato. Just be careful how you use it. I will say what I believe to be true: that Lavinia can only hurt you, given what you are and she is. I’ll say no more, for now. Just leave it with me. It won’t be easy to arrange a meeting; there’s not exactly much privacy available in the middle of a legion. In any case, my husband has rather traditional attitudes concerning the handling of his property.’

===OO=OOO=OO===

When the eagle and the other standards were removed from the fortress strong-room at dawn the next day, the legate and his staff breathed a sigh of relief. Soldiers, being the superstitious lot that they were, interpreted any problem in moving the eagle at the start of a campaign as an ill omen of the worst kind. But today the eagle emerged smoothly from headquarters and marched down the Via Praetoria to take its place in the colour guard at the front of the First cohort. The significance of the moment was observed by all those within sight of the eagle: the Legion was about to go off to war for the first time in years — minor border skirmishes excepted. An expectant hush settled over the fortress as every soldier, muleteer and camp follower waited for the order. Only the animals, insensible as ever to the affairs of mankind, moved; hooves scraped on cobblestones, bits jingled on harnesses and tails flicked to and fro in the spring morning.