Macro shook his head. ‘Sorry, lad.’ He tried to think of any misdemeanour he or his men might have unwittingly committed. One of the recruits had probably been caught taking a dump in the tribunes’ latrine again, he mused. ‘I doubt we’re in any kind of serious trouble, so take it easy.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The clerk reappeared. He stood to one side of the tent flap and held it open for them.

‘Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough,’ mumbled Macro as he led the way. Inside, he raised his eyebrows at the sight of the general, just as Hortensius had done before him. Then he marched up to the senior officers and stood to attention. Cato, younger and lacking the toughness of the veteran centurion, shambled to his side and stiffened into the appropriate posture as best he could. Macro saluted his legate.

‘Centurion Macro and Optio Cato reporting as ordered, sir.’

‘At ease,’ ordered Plautius. The general cast a disapproving eye over them before he turned to Vespasian. ‘These are the men we were talking about?’

‘Yes, sir. They’re just back from that patrol. You haven’t caught them at their best.’

‘So it seems. But are they as reliable as you say?’

Vespasian nodded, uncomfortable at discussing the two men as if they were not present. He had noticed that those of aristocratic descent, like Aulus Plautius, were inclined to regard the lower orders as part of the scenery without a moment’s consideration of how crushing it was to be treated that way. Vespasian’s grandfather had been a centurion, like this man standing before them, and it was only due to the social reforms of Emperor Augustus that men from more humble lineages could now rise to the highest offices in Rome. In due course Vespasian, and his elder brother Sabinus, might become consuls, the highest post a senator could achieve. But those senators from the oldest families would still look down their fine noses at the Flavians and mutter snide remarks to each other about the arrivistes’ lack of refinement.

‘You’re sure of them?’ Plautius persisted.

‘Yes, sir. Definitely. If anyone can do the job, it’s these two.’

Despite his exhaustion, Cato’s curiosity was aroused and it sharpened his concentration. He barely managed to restrain a glance towards his centurion. Whatever this ‘job’ was, it came right from the top and had to be a chance to distinguish himself and prove to the other men of the legion, and more importantly to himself, that he was worthy of the optio’s white strap he wore on his shoulder.

‘Very well,’ said the general. ‘You’d better brief them.’