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my decisions. I’ve had you brought to my residence since I didn’t want to do this in the headquarters building – too many eyes and ears, I’m afraid. Before we go any farther in this matter, I will declare an interest in your case – I was at one time a close friend of your father’s, although we haven’t spoken for some five or six years now. You look very much as your father did at your age …’
    He raised a hand in pre-emption of any question.
    ‘No, you’re here to listen. Marcus Valerius Aquila, do you know why I ordered you to be brought here at this time?’
    The opportunity was irresistible to a young man in desperate need of reassurance.
    ‘No! Sir, I …’
    The flat of the centurion’s sword slapped his arm hard in admonishment.
    ‘Answer the legatus’s questions with a simple yes or no!’
    ‘No.’
    ‘So you have no idea of events in Rome of the past weeks?’
    The urge to be sick returned, held in check only by the sudden return of the concerns he had managed to put to the back of his mind over the weeks of travel.
    ‘No.’
    ‘I see. Then I must inform you that your father was arrested three weeks ago, for the crime of plotting to assassinate the emperor. When did you leave Rome?’
    Marcus’s skin crawled with the revelation, and with the equally sudden realisation that he was in desperate danger. It was time to shed the deception that had accompanied him from Rome, to reclaim his identity before this went any further.
    ‘The fifteenth day of the month of Januarius. Sir, I have …’
    The blow fell again, harder this time.
    ‘ Silence! ’
    ‘I see. You arrived here only a day after the courier bearing the news of your father’s crime. Good timing for the legion, though, to have the opportunity to arrest a traitor …’
    ‘Arrest … ?’
    Marcus thought he saw a brief narrowing of the legatus’s eyes, but the man’s face itself was set hard against him.
    ‘Indeed. The son of an old friend you may be, but an enemy of my emperor is an enemy of mine. I have no choice but to send you back to Rome to beg for the mercy of the throne. Do you have anything to say?’
    ‘ Yes , sir. Sir, I am a praetorian officer on detached courier duty, bearing a private dispatch for you from the emperor himself. I have been instructed to travel incognito, in order to ensure that the message remains confidential. My saddlebag contains a message container bearing the imperial seal, to be opened only by you. I know nothing of the events you describe, and have been following the direct orders of my superior officer in making this journey.’
    The tribune leaning against the office wall spoke for the first time, his voice heavy with irony.
    ‘Correction, citizen, you were a praetorian. The praetorian prefect rescinded your commission as soon as your absence without leave was linked to your father’s crime. Your tribune was interrogated, and admitted taking money from your father in return for sending you away from Rome on a false errand. A very large amount of money, as it happens. He has already paid the appropriate penalty for consorting with enemies of the throne. The seal on your message container is nothing more than a good fake, and the container itself holds nothing more than a last letter from your father …’
    ‘ Thank you, Tigidius Perennis …’
    The legatus fixed the tribune with a dark-eyed silencing stare. He held the stare until the younger man looked down at his boots, clearly intending to win the brief clash of wills with his junior.
    ‘Perhaps your father expected that I would be in a position to protect you … but if he did it was a misguided expectation. In the light of his crime, you must return to Rome immediately to face trial in connection with his offence. You will be escorted to the main gate, where your horse will be waiting for you. You are instructed to return to Rome by the most direct route, deviating from that road for no reason. Failure to present yourself at the