A smaller, younger and far more noble-looking man urged his horse past the standard-bearer and brought it up close to the barracks. His tunic carried a broad blue stripe and he wore a fine scarlet cloak over his armour. He removed his helmet, smoothed down his hair and looked impassively down at the small band of legionaries.
‘I am Tribune Gallio Artorius Andronicus. Who is in charge here?’
The legionaries were standing between Andronicus and Cassius. Not one of them said a word.
‘Well?’ demanded the tribune. ‘Who is in charge?’
After a moment, Domitius turned round and looked at Cassius. With a trace of a smile and a slight nod, he moved aside. Another man turned, nodded to Cassius and moved out of the way. One after another, each of the other legionaries did the same, until there was clear space between the two officers.
Recalling Strabo’s last words, Cassius straightened his back and raised his chin.
‘I am, sir. I am.’