‘Pass the mice,’ Macro interrupted.

‘Yes, sir,’ Cato responded guiltily. ‘There you are, sir.’

‘Do you read much?’ Flavia asked Macro. ‘I ask only to reassure myself that Cato here is a bit wide of the mark. I can’t believe that my husband’s officers would ignore the muses.’

‘Ma’am?’

‘Do you read poetry, Centurion?’

‘Not often, ma’am, I’m too busy most of the time.’

‘But you do read poetry,’ Flavia insisted.

‘Of course, ma’am.’

‘So who’s your favourite?’

‘Who’s my favourite? Well, let me think. Probably that chap young Cato just mentioned.’

‘Really?’ Flavia frowned. ‘And which of Virgil’s works do you rate most highly?’

‘Difficult question, ma’am. I think all of his stuff is good.’

‘Coward!’ laughed Flavia. ‘Frankly, I doubt whether you have read anything of his, or any poet, for that matter. In fact, I doubt whether you read at all.’

She laughed again, but Macro looked down at his food in silence and Cato, sensed his centurion’s acute discomfort.

‘Shhh!’ Flavia raised a finger to her lips. ‘I think the legate is about to speak.’

Sure enough Vespasian downed the last of his wine and stood up. He tipped a wink to the majordomo who ordered the servants to quickly distribute the decanters of Falernian to all tables. Then he rapped his staff down on to the mosaic floor. The room slowly fell silent as all eyes turned to the head table. Vespasian waited for complete quiet before he began to speak.

‘Gentlemen, and ladies, it cannot have escaped your attention that the Legion has been preparing for relocation in recent weeks. I can tonight confirm that imperial staff has issued us with our marching orders. The Legion is to proceed with all due haste to the west coast of Gaul…’

If Vespasian was expecting some excited response he was to be disappointed. Many officers in the room looked away in embarrassment, shuffling uncomfortably. One or two polite souls did try and look surprised, as if this was indeed news to them, but they were seen through in an instant, and Vespasian continued with an evident sourness to his tone.

‘On arrival we are to join up with elements of four other legions to train for the invasion of Britain. A fleet is being assembled even now and before the year is out a new province will have been added to the empire in the name of and glorification of Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus. The Legion begins moving in two months’ time, our fortress to be garrisoned by a mixed auxiliary cohort from Macedonia in our absence. Right, you know the routine. From tomorrow you get straight to it. All that remains tonight is a toast. So, fill your cups and raise them to the Emperor!’

===OO=OOO=OO===

As the orderly and Cato helped lift Macro off the litter into his bed the centurion grabbed hold of Cato’s tunic and dragged him close.

‘You stay. I want a word in private.’ Macro’s face was grim.

Left alone with his superior, his mind sharpened by the cold night air, Cato wondered what on earth he could have done to bring on this sudden change in mood. For a moment Centurion Macro stared up at Cato intently before he could nerve himself to say what was on his mind.