‘May I have that scroll please?’ asked Vespasian as evenly as possible.

After a cursory — but not openly curious — examination Plinius returned it to his legate.

‘Thank you.’ Vespasian restored it quickly to the safe-box and returned to the matter at hand. ‘As you gentlemen know, there have been rumours that the army gathering at Gesoriacum is on the verge of mutiny. I had a message from General Plautius late this afternoon, brought to me by a household slave. I’m afraid there’s some substance to the rumours.’

He looked up and met the surprised, and anxious, expressions of his officers. There was a silent pause, broken only by the sound of Titus playing somewhere nearby. The officers shifted uneasily. Many careers were riding on the success of the invasion. If the campaign failed, all those associated with it would have blotted reputations. Worse still, for those with an appreciation of the wider political implications, the authority of the Emperor himself would be questioned. Claudius had survived one attempted coup already and until he won the acclaim of the mob in Rome and of the armies spread across the Empire, his hold on power would be tenuous. A successful invasion would tie down a large body of troops and distract the legions from their recent distasteful interest in politics.

‘Six days ago a cohort from the Ninth Legion refused to embark on to ships bound for a squadron reconnaissance of the British coast. When the centurions tried to force the men aboard there was a brief struggle which left two centurions dead and four wounded.’

‘Has word of this got out to the rest of the army?’ Vitellius asked.

‘Of course,’ Vespasian said with a smile. ‘What did you expect? I’ve seen at first hand how well soldiers keep secrets.’

Some of the tribunes blushed as Vitellius continued. ‘Do we know why that cohort mutinied?’

‘It seems that someone has been stirring up the superstitious fears of our troops about what they may encounter when they land in Britain. The usual stuff and nonsense about fire-breathing monsters and other demons. I know it’s rubbish but, even if we don’t believe it, most legionaries do. As things stand, the troops have refused to go on any ships, even for training purposes.’

‘What’s being done about it, sir?’

‘We’re to continue marching towards Gesoriacum but have been ordered to stop ten miles short, in a holding area, until the mutiny is quelled — with or without our intervention. The new chief of the imperial staff was at Lugdunum when the news broke. He’s making for the army at top speed and we’re to supply an escort from Durocortorum. Apparently he has asked for men from our unit since they have not yet been contaminated by the mutiny.’

‘Contaminated?’ Plinius raised his eyebrows.

‘His words, Tribune, not mine.’

‘Sir!’ Plinius protested. ‘I didn’t mean to imply—’

‘That’s all right. Narcissus is not the most tactful of men at times, but there we are.’