Simon Scarrow - The Eagle In the Sand

'Maybe. We can ask Longinus for reinforcements.'

'Why should he give us any help?'

Macro smiled. 'Trust me. He'll be more than willing. If Longinus knows that Narcissus is watching him closely he'll need to prove his loyalty to the Emperor any way he can.'

'True. But what we need are light troops, cavalry, that sort of thing. Not heavy infantry. Longinus should be able to spare some auxiliary forces. In any case, I think we might be able to call on help from other quarters.' Cato turned back to Symeon, who had been sitting impatiently, watching the two centurions talking in their tongue. Cato switched back to Greek. 'Symeon, you told us you that you have family in Nabataea? At Petra?'

'That's right.'

'And they run mercenary caravan escorts down into Arabia?'

Symeon nodded.

'Is there any chance that we might persuade them to help us against Bannus? After all, his men have been raiding the caravans between here and the Decapolis.'

Symeon sucked at his teeth.'Difficult to say.Thanks to Prefect Scrofa the Second Illyrian has earned itself quite a lot of bad feeling down in Petra. I'd imagine there're plenty of merchants down there who'd be quite happy to see the garrison at Bushir destroyed.'

'Then we have to win back their friendship.'

'Easier said than done.' Symeon smiled. 'Words will not be enough, Centurion. They will need to be persuaded by deeds.'

'Ah!' Macro rubbed his hands together. 'Then they can have their deeds. I've had an idea about those caravans, and how we can persuade the desert raiders to give them a wide berth from now on.'

Cato and Symeon turned to him expectantly.

'Not so fast.' Macro grinned. 'Before that we have to deal with Prefect Scrofa. It's time we had a word with him. I'll have one of the guards send our message. But first, I need you to do something for us, Symeon. Listen here.' Macro lowered his voice and began to outline his plan.

Postumus rapped on the door and from inside the prefect called out, 'Enter!'

The latch lifted and the door swung open to admit Postumus, and behind him Centurions Macro and Cato. The three men approached the prefect's desk and Postumus halted some distance before it, the others following his lead. Postumus patted his sword meaningfully as he met his superior's gaze.

'Macro and Cato, as requested, sir.'

'Thank you, Postumus.'

'There are four men just outside the door, sir.'

'I'm confident they will not be needed, but, er, there's no need to send them away now they're here. Very well then, gentlemen.' Scrofa drew himself up in his chair. 'What is the meaning of this? What is this information that is so important for me to hear?'

Macro glanced at Cato and the latter gave the slightest nod towards the window that overlooked the courtyard. But outside the fort continued to bask quietly in the heat. Macro coughed to clear his throat. 'We need to talk about the situation.'

'What situation?'

'The, uh, situation pertaining to the command of this cohort.' Macro spoke with slow deliberation, as if weighing each word that he uttered as he played for time. 'That is to say, the correct protocol for the, uh, transmission of authority from the present command to the assumption of command by, er, me. As it were… sir.'

'Get to the point, Centurion,' Scrofa snapped irritably, and jabbed his finger towards Macro. 'You'd better not be wasting my time. So spit it out. Tell me what's so bloody important that I must interrupt my afternoon rest to hear it, or I'll send you back to your quarters at once.'

'Very well.' Macro nodded. 'I'll tell you. Your command of this cohort is forfeit. Your confinement of me and my fellow officer is illegal. The protection racket you operate on the caravan route passing through your territory is a corruption of your duty, responsibility and rank, for which I will bring charges against you and Centurion Postumus in due course, once I have assumed command of the Second Illyrian.' Macro paused to draw breath and glanced out of the window and down into the courtyard. His heart sank a little as he saw that it was still empty. He took a breath and continued. 'Moreover, I will add to the charges against you that through deliberate provocation you endangered the security of the Roman province of Judaea and-'

'Be quiet!' Scrofa interrupted. 'This is pointless!'

'I haven't finished saying my piece.'

'Oh yes you have. Centurion Postumus!'

'Sir?'

'Take these two back to their quarters. And don't let them waste my time again.'

'Yes sir.'

Cato had been listening to the exchange with growing concern. He felt his pulse quicken as he knew it was time to act. His hand was being forced, but there was no alternative.

'Wait a moment!'

He reached for the leather thong round his neck and pulled the scroll case from under his tunic.

'What's that?' asked Scrofa.

Cato pulled the cap off the case and pulled out the roll of parchment inside. He approached the desk, unrolling the document, and spread it out across the flat surface, the right way up for the prefect to read it. Scrofa's gaze went straight to the imperial seal and he glanced up at Cato with a surprised expression. Cato tapped the document.

'Read it, sir.'

As the prefect glanced over the authority that Narcissus had penned for Macro and Cato, Centurion Postumus edged closer and moved round to read over his superior's shoulder.

Cato waited until Scrofa had finished examining the document before he broke the silence.

'As you can see, we have been empowered to act in the Emperor's name in all areas of Roman jurisdiction within the provinces of Judaea and Syria.We now invoke our powers under the terms of this authority.' Cato took a breath and continued. 'You are hereby stripped of your command of the Second Illyrian cohort.'

Scrofa looked up from the document with a shocked expression. 'You can't speak to me like that!'

Macro grinned as he leaned forward over the table and tapped the parchment. 'Read it again, sunshine. We can do what we like. Anything we like. Now, citizen, I'd be grateful if you got out of my chair. I've got work to do. A lot of work, thanks to you.'

Scrofa wasn't listening. His eyes scanned the document again, as if he could somehow change its meaning. Centurion Postumus straightened up and laughed. 'This document is obviously a forgery. Something you two have cooked up while you've been stewing in your quarters.'

'Forgery?' Macro shook his head and smiled. 'Look at the seal, Postumus.You should recognise it well enough.'

'I still say it's a fake. If you two think this is going to change things here, then you are bigger fools than I thought.'

The sound of voices drifted up from the courtyard. Cato hurried over to the window and glanced down. Behind Symeon, Centurion Parmenion and a handful of other officers were walking through the archway. Symeon looked up and waved. More men were emerging from the alley between the barracks opposite, heading towards the prefect's quarters. Cato felt the knotted tension in the pit of his stomach begin to ease. He turned back, crossed to the desk and picked up the document. Before Scrofa or Postumus could react he returned to the window and held it out so all below could see it.

'Gentlemen! By order of Emperor Claudius and the Senate of Rome, Prefect Scrofa has been removed from command of the Second Illyrian Cohort. As of this instant he has been replaced by Centurion Macro. Now, I'd be greatly obliged if you joined us in Prefect Macro's quarters immediately.'

After the briefest of hesitation, and to Cato's great relief, the officers shuffled towards the main entrance to the building, just below the window. As he turned back into the room Scrofa stared at him, thunderstruck. Postumus instantly grasped the implications of what was happening and a look of fear flitted across his handsome features, making Macro laugh. He could not contain the light-hearted thrill at having turned the tables on Scrofa and his subordinate. He leaned towards Postumus and tapped him on the chest.'Now who's the bigger fool, eh?'