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“We call the circumstances exceptional, and give out lenient treatment, Caesar?”
    â€œWe cannot lose four legions of crack troops,” Vespasian growled. “They will be disbanded, stiffened up, and reformed in different units.”
    â€œThese new legions will be shifted from the Rhenus?”
    â€œNo sensible alternative. The forces which Cerialis and Gallus commanded will guard the frontier.”
    â€œIt won’t take all nine legions.” I could now see the options that were facing the Emperor. “So the Fourteenth Gemina could either be sent back to Britain or stationed at Moguntiacum permanently. I believe Canidius told us it was their original home base. What’s your plan, sir?”
    â€œI have not yet decided,” the Emperor demurred.
    â€œIs that my mission?” I like to be frank.
    He looked annoyed. “Don’t pre-empt my instructions!”
    â€œCaesar, it’s obvious. They served you well under Cerialis, but were highly restless beforehand. Ever since they defeated the Iceni, the Fourteenth have become a byword for wilfulness—”
    â€œDon’t decry a good legion!” Vespasian was an old-fashioned general. He hated to believe any unit with a fine reputation could deteriorate. But if they did, he would be ruthless. “Moguntiacum is a two-legion fort, but they are doubled up with some inexperienced troops. I need them —if I can trust them.”
    â€œThe legion was raised there,” I mused. “There’s nothing like their own interested grannies living locally to keep soldiers meek … Also, it’s nearer than Britain, which makes supervision easier.”
    â€œSo, Falco, how do you feel about making a discreet inspection?”
    â€œWhat do you think?” I scoffed. “I was serving in the Second Augusta during the Icenean thrash. The Fourteenth will well remember how we abandoned them.” I can handle myself in a street fight, but I shied away from taking on six thousand vengeful professionals who had good reason to thumb me out of existence like a woodlouse on a bathhouse wall. “Caesar, they are liable to bury me in quicklime and stand around grinning while I frizzle!”
    â€œAvoiding that should test your talents,” the Emperor sneered.
    â€œWhat exactly,” I queried, letting him see I felt nervous, “are you asking me to do, Caesar?”
    â€œNot much! I want to send the Fourteenth a new standard, to mark their recent good conduct in Germany. You will be transporting it.”
    â€œSounds straightforward,” I muttered gratefully, waiting to discover the catch. “So while I’m handing over this token of your high esteem, I size up their mood and decide whether your esteem ought to last?” Vespasian assented. “With respect, Caesar, if you are planning to sponge the Fourteenth off the army list, why don’t you ask their commanding legate to report in suitable terms?”
    â€œNot convenient.”
    I sighed. “That suggests there is a problem with the legate too, sir?”
    â€œCertainly not,” replied Vespasian decisively. He would say that in public, unless he had firm grounds to cashier the fellow. I guessed I was supposed to produce grounds.
    I moderated my tone. “Can you tell me something about him?”
    â€œI don’t know the man personally. Name’s Florius Gracilis. He was suggested for a commander’s post by the Senate, and I knew no reason to object.” There was a myth that all public posts were awarded by the Senate, although the Emperor’s veto was absolute. In practice, Vespasian would normally suggest his own candidates, but he might sometimes flatter the Curia by allowing them to nominate some dumb cluck of their own. He seemed suspicious of this man—but did he fear blatant corruption, or everyday inefficiency?
    I let it lie. I had my own resources for boning up on senators. Gracilis was