'They are to remain on the ship,' Cato said firmly. 'Any man who attempts to go ashore will be treated as a deserter. Is that understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good.' Cato turned away and saw that the Ibis was mooring directly astern. The gangway was already run out and Macro scrambled on to the jetty and made his way alongside the Sobek to wait for Cato.

'Remember what I said,' Cato warned the trierarch, and then turned away to go ashore. As soon as he stepped on to the paved surface, it seemed to Cato that the land was shifting unsteadily beneath his boots. He struggled to adjust his sense of balance and Macro winked at him.

'Now that is a strange feeling.'

'Quite,' Cato agreed. 'Come on.'

They set off along the jetty, the heat beating off the stones beneath them. Ahead, at the gate leading from the jetty towards the palace buildings, a party of legionaries stood waiting, a centurion standing in front of them, vine cane held across his thighs as he stood with his feet apart.

'Didn't take long to send out a reception committee,' Macro remarked. 'Someone was quick off the mark in calling out an honour guard.'

'Yes.' Cato frowned. 'But how could they know?'

'Perhaps you're not the only one with good eyesight,' Macro suggested mildly. 'Still, full marks to the officer in charge of the watch.'

They continued, as steadily and with as much dignity as their sea legs allowed, towards the waiting soldiers. As they approached the gate, the centurion stepped forward and raised his right hand in a salute.

'Are you Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato, sir?'

'Yes.'

'And you, Centurion Lucius Cornelius Macro?'

Macro nodded. 'I take it you're here to escort us to your commander?'

The centurion looked mildly surprised.

Cato shook his head. 'There's no time for formalities. I have to see the governor, at once.'

'Formalities?' The centurion gestured to his waiting men. 'I think you misunderstand, sir. We've not been sent to greet you. I've been ordered to place you under arrest. Both of you.'

'Arrest?' Macro glared. 'What the bloody hell are you talking about. Arrest?'

'Wait!' Cato held up his hand. 'Whose order is this?'

'Comes straight from the governor, sir. Soon as he had word that the ships were entering the harbour. You're to be taken to the watchroom and held there until further orders are issued. If you'll follow me, sir?'

'Why?' Cato stood his ground. 'What are the charges?'

The centurion stared at them. 'I should have thought that's obvious, sir. Murder, and piracy.'

They were left alone in the watchroom. The door remained open and four sentries stood guard outside. The room itself was well-proportioned with high ceilings and ventilated by large windows high up on the walls. The distant sounds of the city outside the palace merged into a constant low drone.

Cato was sitting at a table, drinking a cup of water, savouring the fact that he no longer had to limit himself to a small ration.

Macro glanced out at the guards and crossed the room and sat on a stool opposite Cato. 'What the hell is going on? Why are we under arrest?'

'You heard him. Murder and piracy.'

'What kind of crap is that?' Macro fumed. 'We're officers of the Roman army. And you, you're a prefect.'

'Glad you've noticed.'

'How dare they treat you like this? By the gods, some fool will pay for this, and pay dearly.'

'Macro, there's obviously been some mistake. It'll be sorted out. There's no use flaring up, you're just wasting your energy.' Cato filled another cup and pushed it across the table towards his friend. 'Here. Have a drink.'

Macro gritted his teeth as he controlled his temper. Then he took the cup and drained it quickly and set it down with a sharp rap. 'Another.'

This time he drank more slowly then pushed the empty cup away. 'That's better. Bloody tongue was starting to feel like a strip of old boot leather.'

'I know what you mean.' Cato nodded. 'I hope water's been provided for the men on the ships. They're still out there in the sun.'

Macro frowned at him. 'I think you should be concentrating on our predicament rather than theirs.'

'Why? Didn't you always tell me that a good officer thinks of the well-being of his men before his own? You used to be quite adamant about that when I was your optio.'

'Did I?' Macro grumbled. 'What good is that doing you right now, eh?'

'It's taking my mind off being stuck in here with a firebrand who is storming around the place like a caged bull.'

Macro's weathered and scarred face creased into a smile. 'Sorry. I just don't take kindly to being called a murderer and pirate. A killer and plunderer, yes. That goes with the job.'

'To some minds that would seem to be a distinction of degree rather than category, Macro,' Cato replied wryly.

'Really?' Macro raised his eyebrows. 'Then fuck 'em, I say. I'm no murderer.'

Cato had become well used to the rather rough and ready nature of Macro's soldier's sophistry and simply shrugged.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of boots in the corridor outside the watchroom and a moment later the guards stepped aside to admit the centurion in charge of the arresting party, as well as the governor of the province and a scribe. The centurion stood to one side and bowed his head as he announced, 'His Excellency, Gaius Petronius, governor of Alexandria and the province of Egypt, and legate of the Emperor.'

Cato and Macro stood up and bowed their heads as Petronius strode to the centre of the room and stopped, hands on hips, a dark expression on his face. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the corner. The scribe hurried over, sat cross-legged, and took a waxed tablet and stylus from his satchel.

Petronius rounded on Cato. 'I let you take my forces to Crete to quash rebellion, not to spread it about even more widely. You two have a lot to answer for.' Petronius glared at them. 'You've got the entire delta region up in arms and not just them. The merchants' and traders' guilds of the city want your heads. I'm tempted to give due legal process a miss and let the mob tear you to pieces, before their mood boils over into open revolt.' He folded his arms. 'So please, in the name of all the gods, tell me just what the hell you two think you are up to?'

'Up to, sir?' Cato shook his head. 'I don't understand.'

'Bollocks! I've been getting reports for the best part of a month that you have been terrorising the coastal villages. Landing, demanding supplies and killing those who refuse to cooperate. I've even heard that you have been stopping ships, torturing their crews for information and then killing almost everyone on board before you move on.'

Macro and Cato exchanged a quick look.

'Oh, don't deny it!' the governor raged. 'I have reports naming you. And a handful of witnesses that you have been kind enough to spare. More than enough evidence to have you nailed to a cross before the day is out. So,' he forced himself to control his temper before he continued, 'I ask you again, what do you think you have been playing at? According to the last despatch I had from Crete, you had been sent to track down a renegade slave. Not to foment yet another rebellion here in Egypt. I'm not sure who poses the greatest threat to peace in the Empire, a renegade gladiator, or the two moronic thugs sent to track him down. To add insult to injury you are using my men, and my ships, to carry out your dirty work. Don't think that has escaped the notice of the mob either. One of my patrols was stoned as it passed through the streets yesterday. I lost an optio and one of the men. All thanks to you two and the heavy-handed way you have gone about hunting down this character, Ajax.'

'But we've done nothing, sir,' Macro protested. 'None of it's true.'