‘Forgive the impolite nature of this meeting, Marcus Valerius Aquila, but given the circumstances I decided that not to take the precaution would be foolhardy.’

Marcus nodded his understanding, keeping his eyes fixed on the prefect’s.

‘You’ll know why I’ve asked you to join us…?’

He nodded again.

‘You’ve uncovered my secret, Prefect, and you want to talk to me before you decide what to do with me.’

The senior officer raised an eyebrow.

‘You’re assuming that I haven’t already made that decision.’

‘Yes, sir, I am. If you’d already decided to have me arrested I would have found myself at the point of a sword without warning, my hands bound, and then thrown into the punishment cells for safe keeping. And if you’d already decided to ignore my situation I probably wouldn’t even be here, you’d be agreeing with the first spear the best way to keep me out of trouble. As it is you have a sword ready to use, which implies either mistrust of my potential actions or a lack of confidence in your own abilities. Or both.’

Scaurus laughed, flashing a glance at Frontinius.

‘Confident even in the face of execution, Valerius Aquila?’

‘I’ve lived with the prospect of an unjust death, like the one visited on my father, my mother, my brother, my sisters, my uncle and my cousins, for several months now. It’s hard to stay scared for that long, Prefect.’

He closed his mouth and waited for the prefect to speak. Scaurus looked into his eyes for a moment, then shrugged slightly and continued.

‘Like you, I was born and raised in Rome. Unlike you, although I am the son of an old and respected line, I was not born to a wealthy family. Our clan fell on hard times during the Year of the Four Emperors. My ancestor was unlucky enough to back the wrong man a hundred years ago, and the Emperor Vespasian made him pay for it with enough severity that for a while it was touch and go as to whether the family name would survive at all.