'Nevertheless, according to your most recent reports, his strength has grown, he's becoming more ambitious in his attacks, and he's even claiming to be some kind of divinely chosen leader.' Cato frowned. 'What was the word?'

'Mashiah,' said Florianus. 'That's what the locals call them. Every few years some crazy fool sets himself up as the anointed one, the man to lead the people of Judaea to freedom from Rome, and eventual conquest of the world.'

Macro shook his head. 'An ambitious-sounding lad, this Bannus.'

'Not just him. Almost every one of them,' Florianus responded. 'They last a few months, gather a desperate mob behind them and eventually we have to send the cavalry out from Caesarea to knock a few heads together and crucify the ringleaders. Their followers melt away readily enough and then we just have a handful of anti-Roman fanatics and their terror tactics to worry about.'

'So we saw,' Macro said. 'I can tell you, there was nothing low-level about that.'

'You get used to it.' Florianus waved his hand dismissively. 'It happens all the time.They pick on their own more often than not, those people they accuse of collaborating with Rome. Usually a quick kill in the streets, but when their targets are hard to get at the sicarians are not above using suicide attacks.'

'Shit,' Macro muttered. 'Suicide attacks. What kind of madness is that?'

Florianus shrugged. 'You make a people desperate enough, and there's no telling what horrors they are capable of. Give it a few months here, and you'll see what I mean.'

'I want to leave this province already.'

'All in good time.' Cato gave a thin smile. 'This Bannus.You said he operates on the far side of the Jordan.'

'That's right.'

'Near the fort at Bushir?'

'Yes, so?'

'That's the fort where the Second Illyrian Cohort is stationed, under Prefect Scrofa.'

'Yes. What of it?'

'Our cover story is that we have been sent to relieve Scrofa. Macro is to take command of the cohort and I'll act as his second in command.'

Florianus frowned. 'Why? What possible use will that serve?'

'I believe Prefect Scrofa was appointed directly on the orders of Longinus?'

'That's true. He was sent down from Antioch. But it's not unusual. Sometimes a new commander is needed and there's no time to refer the matter to Rome.'

'What happened to the previous commander?'

'He was killed. In an ambush, while he was leading a patrol in the hills. That's what his adjutant said in the report.'

'Quite.' Cato smiled.'But the fact that his adjutant was named by the same man who told Narcissus about Longinus is more than a little intriguing, to my mind at least.'

Florianus was still for a moment. 'You're not serious?'

'I've never been more serious.'

'But what is the connection with Longinus?'

Macro smiled. 'That's what we're here to find out.'

Centurion Florianus called his orderly and sent for some wine. 'I think I could use something a little stronger. You two are beginning to frighten me. There's more to this than you've let on.'

Macro and Cato exchanged a brief look and Macro nodded his assent. 'Go on then. You know the background to this better than I do.'

07 The Eagle In the Sand

Cato was still for a moment, focusing his thoughts before he told Florianus about the meeting with Narcissus in the imperial palace nearly three months earlier, at the end of March. Before then Macro and Cato had spent several months training recruits for the urban cohorts – the units assigned to police Rome's streets.The recruits were the type of men who would never be selected for the legions, and the two centurions had done their best to kick them into shape. It had been a thankless task, but even though Cato had been desperate to return to active service, the summons of the Imperial Secretary had filled him with foreboding.

The last mission that the imperial agent had sent them on had been a near suicidal operation to retrieve some scrolls, vital to the security of the Empire, from the clutches of a gang of pirates who had been preying on shipping along the coast of Illyricum.The Sybilline scrolls completed a set of sacred prophecies that were supposed to describe in some detail the future of Rome, and its ultimate fate. Naturally, the Emperor's right hand man had to win possession of such a treasure to safeguard his master and the Empire he served. Cato and Macro had been assigned training duties as a 'reward' for successfully finding the scrolls and delivering them safely into the hands of the Imperial Secretary. Macro was on leave when the messenger from Narcissus arrived at the barracks and so Cato approached the palace alone just as dusk thickened about the grimy walls and sooty tiles of the city.

An early spring storm was raging across the city as Cato entered the palace complex. He was escorted to the suite of the Imperial Secretary and then ushered into Narcissus' office by one of his neatly groomed clerks. Cato handed his drenched cape to the clerk before he crossed the room and sat on the chair that Narcissus waved him towards. Behind the Imperial Secretary was a glazed window through the panes of which the view of the city was distorted. Black clouds billowed across the sky, illuminated every so often by a dazzling flash of lightning that, for an instant, froze the city in brilliant whiteness, before the vision was snatched away and Rome was plunged once more into the shadows.

'Rested, I hope?' Narcissus attempted to look concerned. 'It's been several months since that campaign against the pirates.'

'I've been keeping fit,' Cato replied carefully. 'I'm ready to return to active service. So is Macro.'

'Good. That's good.' Narcissus nodded. 'And where is my friend Centurion Macro?'

Cato stifled a choke. The idea that Macro and this effete bureaucrat might be considered friends was sublimely ridiculous. He cleared his throat. 'On leave. He went to Ravenna to see his mother. She hasn't got over her loss.'

Narcissus frowned. 'Her loss?'

'Her man was killed during the final attack on the pirates.'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Narcissus replied flatly. 'You must pass on my condolences, when you rejoin him. Before you take on your new task.'

Cato froze for a moment, feeling a sick sense of inevitability rise up as he realised the Imperial Secretary had further plans for him.

'I don't understand,' he said. 'I thought Macro and I were waiting to be reassigned to a legion.'

'Ah, well, the situation has changed. Rather, a new situation has emerged.'

'Really?' Cato smiled mirthlessly. 'And what would that be?'

'Those scrolls you recovered, I've been studying them closely for some time now, and I appear to have stumbled on to something quite interesting.' He paused. 'No. Not interesting. Frightening… As you might imagine, I concentrated on the prophecies relating to the immediate future, and I came across something that rather jarred my mind. You see, the seeds of the eventual downfall of Rome are being sown even now.'

'Let me guess – a plague of tax collectors?'

'Don't be glib, Cato. Leave that to Macro – he's better at it.'

'But he's not here.'

'What a pity. Now if I might continue?'

Cato shrugged. 'Go on then.'

Narcissus leaned forwards, clasped his palms together and propped up his chin as he began.'There was a passage in the scrolls which predicted that in the eighth century after the founding of Rome a great power would stir in the east. A new kingdom would be born that would destroy Rome utterly, and build a new capital on her ruins.'

Cato sniffed with derision.'Every mad prophet on the streets of Rome is spouting that kind of prediction.'

'Wait. It's more specific than that. It said the new empire would rise out of Judaea.'