Cato and Macro saluted, turned stiffly away and crunched down the shingle slope to the shoreline.

'Thanks for your support,' Cato muttered.

Macro shrugged. 'Sorry, but I'm with the prefect on this one. They're pirates. They should have known that they could expect no mercy from us.' Macro frowned at him. 'Don't go all soft on me, Cato. Those bastards down there had it coming to them the moment they decided to take us on. Besides, if the position was reversed, if we were their prisoners, do you really think they'd show us any mercy?'

Cato refused to meet his friend's gaze and glanced down at his boots. 'No. But that's what gives our side the moral authority. That's what makes fighting for Rome worth the while.'

'Moral authority?' Macro stopped dead and stared at Cato for an instant before he exploded with laughter. 'Fuck me, lad, you really do come up with them, don't you?'

Cato looked back, scowling over his shoulder. 'Let's just get on with it, shall we? After all, we're just obeying orders.'

'Surely!' Macro slapped his friend heartily on the back. 'Sometimes, I tell you, orders are a positive pleasure to carry out…'

Cato glared at him and Macro laughed again. 'Only joking. Come on.'

A crowd of marines from the fortified camp had gathered by the shore to examine the pirates and jeered loudly as a few amongst them lobbed pebbles at the prisoners. Even as the two centurions approached Cato saw Ajax reel as a stone gashed his forehead.

'Hey!' Macro roared out, making the nearest marines jump. 'Stop that! We need that one in good condition!'

The men drew aside as Macro and Cato approached the prisoners. In addition to the injuries they had received two nights earlier, several now had cuts from the stones that had been thrown at them. Normally the marines might have been a little more careful with captives who could realise a decent price in a slave auction, but since these men were pirates there was little chance that they would be spared, and therefore they could be freely abused by their captors.

Macro beckoned to the optio in command of the guards. 'The prefect's arranging a little display for this lot. Take them to the master carpenter's workshop. Except for him.' Macro pointed to the pirates' leader. 'He's coming with us. Cut him loose from the others.'

'Yes, sir.' The optio saluted.

The prisoners were jostled into a rough column while their young leader was taken to one side, under the eye of a marine who kept a firm hand on his shoulder while the other rested on the pommel of his sword. Ajax watched in sullen silence as his men were led into the camp, chains jingling as the shingle crunched under their bare feet.

Meanwhile, the two centurions strode down to the biremes beached in the shallows where Cato gave orders for repairs to the fire-damaged bireme while Macro organised the unloading of the wounded, and passed on the news of the prefect's extra issue of wine. The last order raised a good-humoured cheer and the men eagerly set to work to finish their duties and clean their kit, all the while looking forward to the prospect of getting out of their skins on the cheap, but potent, wine procured for the navy.

Cato watched them for a moment with a growing feeling of contempt. More than a few grateful toasts would be made to Vitellius that evening for the extra ration of wine. The same Vitellius who had only days before led them into a disastrous sea-battle that had cost the lives of hundreds of their comrades. Were their memories so short? Then again, the successful ambush of the pirates had won them back a large measure of confidence, and the improvement in their spirit had been evident to Cato as the crews of three biremes, their two prizes and the prisoners had made their way back down the coast to join the rest of the fleet. Now Vitellius was trying to buy himself back into their affections, and Cato had no doubt that he would succeed the instant these men sank into the warm intoxicating embrace of the prefect's gift.

Cato turned towards the prisoner and looked him over closely once again. He was sure of it. This was the same man he had seen aboard the pirate flagship, alongside Telemachus… The pirate chief referred to him as a lieutenant. But as Cato struggled to recall the moment in as much detail as possible he was dimly aware that there had to be more to it than that. Ajax was no mere underling. He was one of the pirate chief's senior men. And now he had fallen into Roman hands. Small wonder that Vitellius had been so pleased with the result. At last they had some kind of advantage over their elusive foe.

Ajax turned his head, scanning the ships and the men around him with a keen intelligence, then he met Cato's eyes and glanced down, bowing his head and letting his shoulders sag into a very convincing aspect of dejection. Cato smiled. The man was good, and was going to play up to his captors for all he was worth.

As soon as Macro was satisfied that all was in order he strolled over to Cato.'Ready? Then let's take this little beauty back to headquarters for a chat.' He strode over and raising his vine cane Macro prodded Ajax in the small of his back. 'Come on, let's be having you!'

The prisoner lurched forward with a rattle of chains and threw his head back to spit at Macro, who immediately slapped him hard across the face with the back of his hand.

'Now, now. Show some manners!'

Macro pointed up the beach with his cane, indicating the entrance to the camp and the three of them set off.

Vitellius was awaiting their arrival in his tent. Standing to one side of the tent were two hard-looking men who, Cato realised, must be interrogators. Like most of the specialists in the Roman military, these men would be thoroughly versed in their art and, from the look of them, Cato suspected that they would have had plenty of opportunities to put that training into practice.

As the two centurions and their prisoner entered the tent Vitellius nodded to a sturdy wooden chair with a high back in the middle of an area that had been cleared of any other furniture. Even the rugs that normally covered the ground had been neatly rolled up and placed to the side to avoid getting stained. Macro guided the prisoner over to the chair.

'Wait there.'

At once the two interrogators moved in and tore the soiled clothes off the prisoner, throwing them to one side until he stood naked before them. One of the interrogators firmly pushed him down into the chair and then produced some leather straps, and the two of them tied Ajax's wrists and ankles to the chair.

'Right then.' Vitellius slowly walked round the prisoner and then stopped directly in front of him.'I think we'll have this one flayed alive.'

Ajax glanced up with a terrified expression and Vitellius grinned.'So! We understand Latin. That should make things a little easier.' The prefect stopped smiling and fixed his attention on the prisoner.

'Listen to me. There are some questions I want answers to. I want to know where your fleet is based. I want to know how many ships you have, how they're defended and how many men you have. Lastly I want to know where the scrolls are. If what Centurion Cato tells me about you is correct, and you are one of Telemachus' top men then you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Those are the questions. You've got the answers. If you tell me now you'll save yourself a lot of pain and suffering. If you try to hold anything back, these men,' he nodded at the interrogators, 'will go to work on you. They know how to inflict agonies you couldn't begin to imagine. All you need to know is that you will talk. One way or another.'

Ajax sneered.'You're not doing such a bad job of talking yourself, Roman.'

Vitellius smiled. 'Ah! Such courage in the face of adversity. I'm almost impressed. Let's begin, shall we? I'm keen to see how well you cope.'