‘Should be rather cosy and intimate then. Typical of Vespasian; always the grand gesture on the cheap.’

‘He insisted that you be there as well, sir.’

‘Me?’ Macro shrugged and pointed at his leg. ‘And how am I supposed to attend?’

‘That’s what I asked the legate, sir.’

‘You did? What did he say?’

‘He’ll send a litter for you.’

‘A litter? That’s great. I get to play the invalid all night long and have to chase up some social conversation. It’ll be a bloody nightmare.’

‘Then don’t go, sir.’

‘Don’t go?’ Macro raised his eyebrows. ‘My lad, a polite invitation from a commander of a legion carries somewhat more weight than a writ issued by Jupiter himself.’

Cato smiled and rose to his feet. ‘I’d better go now. Is there anything I can get you for next time? Some reading matter perhaps?’

‘No thanks. Need to give my eyes a break. You might bring me a jar of wine and a dice set. I need to improve my technique.’

‘Dice.’ Cato was vaguely disappointed as he disapproved of those who refused to accept that dice fell randomly — straight dice at least. He nodded and made to leave.

‘One more thing!’ Macro called after him as he strode out of the ward.

‘Sir?’

‘Remind Piso he owes me five sestertii.’

Under The Eagle

Chapter Fifteen

Centurion Bestia glared into each face as he marched steadily along the ranks. In many ways inspection was the most onerous aspect of training to most recruits. Marching, drilling and weapons practice required no more than effort and the minimum of thought. Preparing for inspection, on the other hand, required a kind of genius that almost elevated it to the level of art. Every item of kit had to be cleaned, polished — where possible rather than where necessary — and in a perfect state of repair. There were few short-cuts, and since they were all known by Bestia it was a foolish or desperate recruit who resorted to them. Thus it was that Cato stood nervously at attention and prayed to every god remotely relevant to the situation that Bestia would miss the varnish he had applied to his belt and straps. The visit to the hospital had left him no time to buff the weathered leather up into a shine and he had simply painted the varnish on instead, on the advice of Pyrax. Standing stiffly with spear grounded to his right and left hand resting on the rim of his shield Cato was acutely aware of the faint smell of varnish wafting around him. If Bestia touched the tacky leather then Cato’s deception would be uncovered and he would be up on charges.

Four men down the line Bestia suddenly caught sight of his prey and skimmed past the intervening men with barely a sidelong glance.

‘Ah! Optio.’ He laboured the word. ‘So very good of you to join us this morning.’

As always the sarcastic greeting was unfair, since Cato had no choice in the matter and was excused drill on alternate days on orders from the Legion’s headquarters.