‘Is that what they are saying?’ asked Titus Cornelius, the dead man’s youngest son, who had arrived from Spain the day before. ‘That he and his soldiers died to give the 10th legion time to prepare. That it was a deliberate sacrifice?’

‘It is what is being put about by the man who betrayed him, as well as his friends.’

Claudia Cornelia, widow of Aulus and stepmother to Titus, spoke softly, not being sure who was within earshot. Quintus, her other stepson, was preparing for the ceremonies, seemingly unconcerned that such falsehoods regarding his father’s death were being openly peddled around the city.

‘And does this lie go unchallenged?’

Claudia smiled ruefully. ‘The supporters of Vegetius Flaminus have paid people to go to the baths, streets, markets and taverns to spread this tale. And it is clever, Titus, for it does not diminish your father. If anything it makes him more of a paragon and that goes for the soldiers with him. They are seen as dying like Leonidas and his Spartans, knowingly giving up their lives for the greater good. What could be more puissant to a Roman soldier than to be likened to the heroes of Thermopyle?’

‘Then it’s time to counter it.’

Titus had been told the truth in the despatch which fetched him back from his military duties; how Vegetius Flaminus, the corrupt and corpulent governor of Illyricum, had, through his rapacity, caused an uprising amongst the locals and through his ineptitude had allowed them to combine with Dacian tribesmen from beyond the borders of the province to create a full-blown revolt. Aulus Cornelius had headed a senatorial commission to investigate Vegetius and his gubernatorial record. On seeing the depth of his fellow-senator’s depredations — rapacious taxation, open bribery and fiscal chicanery — as well as the way his army, more accustomed to labouring than soldiering, had ceased to be effective, he had superseded him.