Macro shrugged.
Footsteps approached again and Thraxis opened the door to admit Septimus and closed it behind him without a word, just a scowl.
Septimus was carrying a jar under each arm and bowed his head before cheerfully greeting his customer. ‘Honoured Prefect, a pleasure to be doing business with you again. I bring two samples from the latest stocks to reach Viroconium.’
As soon as Thraxis’s footsteps had faded he dropped the act and set the jars down beside a spare stool and sat down. At once Macro gestured towards the wine. ‘In the interests of maintaining your cover story I think we should test the quality of the wares.’
Septimus nodded. ‘Very wise, and in the interests of maintaining my cover, I think you should pay me for the wine. A denarius for each jug.’
‘What?’ Macro feigned outrage. ‘You would turn a profit on a comrade?’
‘Why not? Anything an imperial agent can do to mitigate the costs of his services is simply an act of patriotism.’
‘Is that what we call profiteering now?’
Septimus shrugged and held out his hand. With a curse Macro reached into his purse, plucked out a silver coin and tossed it to Septimus before helping himself to a jug and looking at Cato. ‘Cups?’
‘The shelf. Over there.’
Macro fetched the Samian ware cups and poured himself and Cato a generous helping before grudgingly pouring Septimus half a cup. The latter took a quick sip and then spoke.
‘A sorry business,’ he said wearily. ‘The governor’s illness does not help our cause.’
Macro shot him a cynical look. ‘Our cause?’
Septimus stared back. ‘My cause. My master’s cause. The Emperor’s cause. Rome’s cause. And therefore your cause. Happy now?’
A smile flickered across Macro’s face. ‘It helps to be reminded from time to time.’
The imperial agent turned to Cato. ‘You know this means that Quintatus will be assuming temporary command.’
‘I’d worked that out for myself.’
Septimus ignored the jibe. ‘I’d be wary of the legate. He’s proved that he’s sympathetic to the other side, even if he isn’t actually an agent of Pallas. The situation is already dangerous enough with Caratacus on the loose amongst the Brigantes. With Quintatus in command of the army there’s no telling what he might do to sabotage our position.’
Macro snorted. ‘Are you suggesting that a Roman legate would deliberately sacrifice his men to satisfy the whims of an imperial freedman?’
Septimus gave him a withering look. ‘This is all about what happens in Rome, Centurion. It is all about who sits on the throne and who stands at their side. Everything else that happens in the empire follows from that essential truth.’
‘I think you have been playing your games for too long,’ Macro replied coolly. ‘Strikes me that you and your kind rather overplay your significance in this world. Your struggles are of little concern to the rest of us. We face more immediate dangers, like keeping the barbarians in their place.’
Septimus stared back and then laughed. ‘You’re priceless, Macro! Do you really think that’s how the world works? Do you really think you soldiers have any say in what determines the paths taken by great powers?’
‘As it happens, I do.’ Macro patted the hilt of his sword. ‘Want me to give you a demonstration?’
Cato waved his hand impatiently. ‘Save it, Macro. This isn’t the time to let our private grievances get in the way.’ He turned back to the imperial agent. ‘I don’t think Quintatus will attempt anything too overt.’
‘Oh?’
‘Think about it. Even if he is working towards ensuring that Nero succeeds Claudius, he’s hardly going to want to go down in history as the man who lost the province of Britannia. He’ll be more subtle than that. If Quintatus is trying to fatally undermine our chances to bring peace to this island then he’ll do it in such a way that it happens after he’s left the scene. That way the blame will attach to someone else — the next governor, whoever that may be. Assuming Ostorius does not recover.’ Cato paused to organise his thoughts. ‘Now that Caratacus is in Brigantia there’s every chance that the war will drag on. Long enough for Quintatus to serve out his tenure of the Fourteenth Legion and return to Rome. So it’s in his interest to make sure that Caratacus talks the Brigantians round, while at the same time being seen to be doing all that he can to prevent it. The question is, how does he intend to achieve that? I think we’ll find out soon enough.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Septimus.
‘Quintatus has summoned all senior officers to a briefing at first light. I imagine he is going to announce that he’s assuming temporary command of the army, and the functions of governor of the province, until Ostorius recovers. And if the general dies, Quintatus will retain control until a new governor reaches Britannia. That’s a lot of power to concentrate in the hands of a legate. Especially one who can’t be trusted.’
‘I’ll have to report all this back to Narcissus at once. I’d better draft and code the message tonight.’ Septimus stood up, taking care to pick up the spare jug before Macro could lay claim to it. At the door he looked back at the two officers. ‘Given what’s going to happen tomorrow, I’d take extra care to watch my back if I were you. I fear that the agent sent by Pallas is going to have a free hand.’
‘We’ll be careful,’ Cato responded.
The officers gathering at headquarters the next morning could not hide their anxiety as they talked in muted tones while waiting for the camp prefect to bring them to order. They were not kept long before his voice echoed through the hall.
‘Commanding officer present!’
Legate Quintatus strode briskly to the dais and climbed the steps to face the assembled officers. He was accompanied by the chief haruspex attached to the army. The priest was wearing his formal white robe. Behind him came a clerk carrying his bag of slates, scrolls, inkpot and pens. He clutched a large waxed tablet under his arm on which to make his notes of the meeting. Quintatus’s gaze swept over them in silence for a moment before he coughed and began his address.
‘It is the opinion of the surgeon of the Twentieth Legion that Publius Ostorius Scapula is medically unfit to continue command of the army for the present. It is his further opinion that the general may remain incapacitated for the foreseeable future. Therefore it falls to me, as senior officer present, to assume command of the army and control of the province until such time as Ostorius recovers. Is there any man who challenges my right to do so?’
It was the required custom to ask the question. There were no legitimate grounds for protesting and the officers remained still and silent.
‘Very well then.’ Quintatus nodded to the clerk standing at the side of the hall. ‘Enter into the record that there was no objection. Furthermore, I have consulted the haruspex to ensure that my decision is in accordance with the will of the gods. The omens are favourable?’
It was more of a statement than a question and the priest nodded quickly as he replied in a sonorous tone, ‘Indeed. The most propitious auspices I have ever witnessed, sir.’ The haruspex drew breath to continue but Quintatus raised a hand to still the man’s tongue.
‘The gods have spoken and give me their blessing to proceed. Time is short, gentlemen. Our enemy is even now attempting to subvert the loyalty of our ally, Queen Cartimandua. If he succeeds, we shall be obliged to march against the northern tribes. It will be as big and bloody a campaign as any ever waged since the legions first landed on Britannia. The army must make ready. I will be sending for the Second Legion and two more cohorts of the Ninth to strengthen our ranks. In the meantime I require you to prepare your men for war. We must be ready to strike within days if the need arises. Questions?’
Cato steeled himself and raised his hand. ‘Sir!’
Quintatus turned to him. ‘What is it, Prefect Cato?’