Cato thought back a moment. ‘I can swim, sir — a bit.’

‘Have you considered a career in the navy?’ Vespasian asked hopefully.

‘No. I get seasick.’

‘Oh dear. Well, I’m afraid that swimming doesn’t quite qualify you for command, but since we’re going to need every man we can train for next year I will allow you to join the Second Legion. Dismissed… that’s the army way of saying, please be a good fellow and wait outside.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Once the door had closed behind the young man, Vespasian shook his head. ‘What’s the world coming to? Think we can make a soldier out of him, Centurion?’

‘No, sir,’ Macro replied immediately. ‘The army’s too dangerous a place for theatre critics.’

‘So is Rome,’ Vespasian sighed, recalling those who had rashly ventured an opinion on the literary output of the late Caligula. Not that matters were much better under his successor, Claudius. The new Emperor’s chief secretary, the freedman Narcissus, had spies everywhere, busy compiling reports on the loyalties of every Roman who might pose the least possible threat to the new regime. The atmosphere in the capital was poisonous following the failure of Scribonianus’ coup attempt and Vespasian had recently been informed that several of his wife’s friends were among those already arrested. Flavia herself had only recently joined him at the base, anxious and fearful, and not for the first time Vespasian wished that Flavia would be more circumspect in her choice of social companions. But that’s what came your way, Vespasian considered, when you married a woman who had been brought up in the highly political atmosphere of the imperial household. Like the young man waiting outside. Vespasian looked up from his desk.

‘Well, Centurion, we’ll see what we can do for young Cato. Is your century up to strength? Didn’t you lose your second-in-command recently?’

‘Yes sir. The optio died this morning.’

‘Good, that simplifies things. Sign the boy up in your century and make him an optio.’

‘But, sir!’

‘But nothing. That’s my order. We can’t make him a centurion and I can’t bend an imperial dictate too far. So we’re stuck with him. Dismissed.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Macro saluted, turned smartly and marched out of the office, cursing under his breath. The position of optio was traditionally within the patronage of a centurion and was worth a good deal of money. He would just have to make sure the lad didn’t last too long, one way or another. After all, a soft city type who didn’t seem to want to be here could easily be induced to seek a discharge given the right kind of prodding.

Cato was waiting for him outside. The lad half smiled and Macro nearly kicked him.

‘So what’s to happen to me, sir?’

‘Just shut up and come with me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

===OO=OOO=OO===

‘Lads, I’d like you to meet the new optio.’

In the darkened mess room the faces turned towards the centurion, lit in pale orange by the few lamps they could afford to burn. Once their gaze flickered from their centurion to the tall young boy at his side few could conceal their amazement.