‘Yes, sir.’

‘So it’s vital we recover the chest, and’ — Vespasian continued with added emphasis — ‘the men you select for the job must know nothing. It is likely that the Emperor’s enemies have already got wind of this and we dare not show our own hand too openly. If one word of this leaks out to the wrong set of ears, you won’t be the only ones after the chest. You have to locate it first. I think you’ll find that you have enough danger to face from the natives without worrying about your own side.’

‘May I ask exactly who I have to worry about, sir?’

Vespasian shook his head. ‘I suspect a few of our comrades-in-arms, but right now I have no evidence.’

‘I see.’ Macro could see all right. He could see that this mission had an additional agenda: to expose those members of the Legion who might constitute a threat to the Emperor — even if that meant staking Macro and his men out as bait. ‘And what happens when—’

‘If.’

‘If we come across these people? What happens then, sir?’

‘Then you prove to me that I’ve selected the right man for the job. You succeed, in either task, and I promise you that you will not find me, or the Emperor, ungrateful.’

Macro allowed the corners of his mouth to lift in appreciation. A desperately dangerous mission then, but one that should pay off well if it went according to the simple plan Vespasian had outlined. Too simple, Macro reflected.

He was to lead a small party of men and a cart south to the marshes, way beyond the protection of the main army. All contact with natives and Roman army scouts was to be avoided. Once at the marshes he was to use the map Vespasian had provided him with to locate the remains of a wagon sunk in a bog almost a hundred years earlier. Having located the wagon, the detachment was to retrieve a chest and load it aboard the cart for the return journey to the Legion where it was to be handed over to the legate in person. Under no circumstances was the chest to be opened. The sight of the treasure that lay within might well corrupt the minds of the common legionary. And if the inevitable curiosity of his men was not enough to contend with, then there was the prospect of having to fight his way through enemy territory against both the natives and men supposedly on his own side who were playing a deep political game.

‘Is there anything else you need to know, Centurion?’

‘One thing, sir. What happens if we fail to locate this wagon?’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Vespasian said simply.

‘I see.’ Macro nodded.

The legate was glad that he didn’t see. Should the mission fail, then the chest would remain in the marsh, waiting for someone else to find it. There was no guarantee that the original map Narcissus had supplied him with was the only one, and now that he had entrusted the centurion with a copy there was no guarantee that further copies would not be made. If the mission failed, then it would be very inconvenient to have a handful of soldiers around with even the slightest inkling of what lurked in the marshes. But that contingency was taken care of.