‘What …’
‘You? Lost for words, Legatus?’
Scaurus shook his head.
‘No, Chamberlain. I’ve long since passed the point of amazement, I was simply gathering my thoughts. What is it that you want from us?’
‘There is a legion, Rutilius Scaurus, in a distant and rather warm part of the empire, that needs a firm grip on its collective neck. You are to relieve the current legatus, take command, and act as you see fit to restore Roman authority to that legion’s operational area without delay. Our frontier is being disregarded, Legatus, and I want those men who find it entertaining to display their contempt for us stamped flat, as an example for their kindred that won’t be forgotten for the next fifty years.’
Legatus and tribune stared back at him for a moment before Marcus found his voice.
‘And my family?’
‘Your family, Tribune Corvus, will stay here in Rome under my personal protection. And in any case, I wouldn’t have thought you’d want them with you, not where you’re going.’ Cleander stood, smoothing his toga out with his hands. ‘As to your men, Legatus, you can decide what to do with your Tungrian cohorts. Send them home, take them with you, it makes no odds to me, although I think having some friendly faces at your back might be a sensible idea, given the depth of venality to which your new command has succumbed of late. Who knows what form their resistance to your assumption of command will take? And now, gentlemen, you’ll have to excuse me. The emperor does so hate it when I’m late for our meetings. I’ll be sure to stress to him just how pleased I am to have delegated this small matter to such consummate professionals.’ He nodded to the leader of his freshly assembled group of assassins. ‘Escort the legatus from the palace.’
Scaurus and Marcus were led back through the palace’s maze, finding themselves on the steps of the Palatine Hill once more. Both men stared out over the Great Circus’s grandstands with mutual bemusement for a moment before Scaurus spoke, his voice flat and emotionless.
‘Legatus.’
Marcus looked at him, seeing the disgust in his face.
‘You do have a choice.’
The older man laughed, his amusement hollow.
‘Do I? Think about it for a moment, and you’ll come to another conclusion. If I refuse this honour, this pinnacle of a military man’s career, this impossible honour for a man of my class, then I make hostages to fortune of every man under my command. You will be executed, be under no illusions about that. Your family …’ He shook his head, unwilling to speak the words. ‘And the fifteen hundred men we brought here? I can imagine numerous ways to make every last one of them wish he’d never volunteered, and none of them will ever see their homeland again. Nor can I leave them here, at the mercy of every officer with a gap to fill in his ranks. There’s no choice for either of us, Tribulus Corvus. I must accept this position, and smile at the taste of ashes it will leave in my mouth, and you must accept the reality that you may never again use your family name in public.’
Marcus nodded, looking up at the sky above them.
‘In which case, Legatus, I suggest we go and break the good news to my brother officers. What was it that Cleander said? “Distant, and rather warm?”’