Except that he would not be marching with them, Cato reflected with a sudden tremor of excitement and fear. While the rest of the Legion marched to meet the enemy, he would be with a small detachment under Macro’s command carrying out a special duty. As yet the centurion had not confided the details of the mission and sat apart from his men, at the stern of the vessel staring down into the heavily silted sea. As Cato looked aft, Macro spat into the water and turned forward, immediately catching the eye of his subordinate. He paused a moment, then made his way towards the bows through the tightly packed mass of legionaries in the waist of the transport.

‘Not so terrifying after all, is it?’ He waved a hand at the shore.

‘No, sir,’ Cato replied. ‘Quite pleasant, really. Looks like it’ll make decent farm land once we’ve settled on it.’

‘And what could a palace boy possibly know about horticulture?’

‘Not much,’ admitted Cato. ‘Only what I’ve read of it from Virgil. He makes farming sound quite fascinating.’

‘Quite fascinating,’ mimicked Macro. ‘Real farming’s a hard life — there’s no poetry in it. Only townie tossers paying the odd visit to their estates could make it sound good.’

Macro immediately regretted his harsh response and smiled as he patted his optio on the arm. ‘I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. It’s just that I’ve got things on my mind right now.’

‘What things, sir?’

‘Things that concern ranks higher than yours. I’m sorry, Cato, I can’t say anything until we’re well away from the Legion. Those are my orders.’

‘Orders from whom, I wonder,’ Cato said quietly. ‘Our commander — or Narcissus, perhaps?’

‘No use fishing for information — I can’t tell you. Just be patient. I’d have thought at least the army would have taught you that by now.’

Cato frowned and turned to look at the approaching fortifications that rose above the beach and the surrounding land.

When Vespasian had issued his orders he had placed great emphasis on the need for utmost secrecy. Of the eleven men Macro had selected for the mission Cato alone had been told about it, and even the optio knew only that he had been selected for a dangerous detached duty. As Macro gazed at the slowly approaching shoreline he recalled the previous evening in Vespasian’s tent. The legate had regarded him by the dim light of an oil lamp, as rain pattered on the canvas overhead.

===OO=OOO=OO===

‘You will, of course, need a cart for the return journey.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘So make sure you draw one from the transport pool — I’ll have a clerk make up the necessary orders.’ Vespasian drained his cup and carefully contemplated the centurion. ‘I trust you appreciate the importance of this mission?’

‘Yes, sir. With that kind of money you need someone you can trust, sir.’

‘Quite.’ Vespasian nodded. ‘But there’s more to it than that. The Emperor desperately needs every scrap of gold and silver that he can find. The only thing that’s keeping him in power at the moment is the support of the army, and more importantly those greedy bastards in the Praetorian guard. Claudius will last only for as long as the donatives flow to the troops. Understand?’