Centurion

Cato shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. 'Please, please tell me that you didn't suggest that she might like to… attach her affections to me.'

'Oh, very well put!' Macro swore softly. 'Very romantic. Anyway, what kind of idiot do you take me for? I just hinted that you were free of any commitments and you'd be a fine catch. Cato, this isn't a children's party.There is every chance that we may not hold out against Artaxes for much longer. If that's the case, what has she got to lose? For that matter what have you got to lose? I think she's taken a shine to you. If you are interested in her then make your move, while there's time.'

'And if we all survive this? What then?' Cato could imagine the awkwardness of a relationship forged in the shadow of a

Macro yawned. 'You could always make an honest woman of her.'

They stared at each other for a moment, before Macro burst out laughing. 'Just joking!'

'Fu

Cato pushed himself away from the parapet and composed his expression. 'Sir, I think we're done here. I still have to do an inventory of my cohort's weapons.'

'An inventory of kit?' Macro tried not to smile at his friend's obvious attempt to avoid further discussion of the matter. Instead he mimicked Cato's officious tone.'Very well then, Prefect Cato. Carry on.'

They exchanged a formal salute and then, as Cato turned and strode stiffly away, Macro shook his head and muttered, 'She's got right under that boy's skin…'

Shortly after noon a messenger from King Vabathus arrived at the makeshift quarters Macro was sharing with Cato.The latter had finally completed his inspection and reluctantly joined Macro in the cool interior of the citadel to sit out the heat and glare of the midday sun.

'His Majesty requests your company at a small feast he is giving this evening in your honour,' the royal servant explained. 'At sunset. Formal dress code.'

'Formal dress?' Macro's expression darkened. He gestured at his worn and dirty tunic and dusty boots. 'This is all we have. When we set off from Antioch we were marching to war, not a bloody di

The servant bowed his head and responded, 'His Majesty's chamberlain suggests that you procure some spare clothes from the Roman ambassador. His excellency Lucius Sempronius has already said he would be happy to provide you with tunics, togas and sandals.'

'Oh, very well,' Macro grumbled. 'We'll be there. You may go.'

The servant made a deep bow and backed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Macro lay back down on his mattress, folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the rafters. 'Here we are, surrounded by bloodthirsty enemies and we're off to a fancy di

'I suppose so,' Cato replied. 'But I hardly think it's going to do much for the morale of the people in the citadel to know that the king and his circle are feasting while they're on limited rations.'

As the sun dipped towards the horizon and bathed the city in an orange glow Macro and Cato entered the royal quarters. At the rear of the citadel, tucked between the main building and the wall, was a small roof garden with a colo

Cato felt a quickening of his pulse at the sight of her, but when she looked his way his gaze shifted to examine the other guests. He saw Balthus approach Julia and with a gracious bow begin to engage her in conversation.

Sempronius smiled as he caught sight of the two officers and came over to greet them.

'Centurion Macro, I see that my tunic is a bit tight around the shoulders.'

Macro swung his arms loosely. 'It's comfortable enough, sir. I'll manage. And thank you for helping us out.'

'My pleasure.' Sempronius turned to Cato. 'You on the other hand seem made to fit my clothes. They look even better on you than on me.'

Cato shifted self-consciously and Sempronius smiled.

'Don't grow too used to them. I'll want them back later on. Anyway, let me show you to your places.' He put a hand on each man's shoulder and steered them towards the couches. 'The king will be seated at the head of the centre table, when he joins us.Thermon and the princes will sit to his left and you two have been given the place of honour at his right. I and my daughter will be on the other side. Normally the locals don't approve of women feasting alongside the men, but they have made an exception for Julia.'

'Very accommodating of them,' said Macro.

'I suppose so, but I imagine it's mainly because Balthus has his eye on her.'

'Really?' Macro looked at Cato and raised an eyebrow. 'That's understandable enough, sir. She's a lovely-looking young woman. Any man in his right senses would be proud to have her as his wife.'

Cato glared furiously at his friend, while Sempronius frowned and said with evident sadness, 'I just wish her former husband had shared your sentiments. Anyway, the prince seems to like her well enough, which is useful.'

'Useful?' Cato was surprised by the odd choice of word.

'Of course. Right now I value any influence that I can get over Balthus, or any of these people. So please, think like diplomats tonight, and not like…'

'Soldiers?' Macro suggested.

Sempronius nodded. 'If you wouldn't mind. For the sake of the Empire.'

'In that case,' Macro assumed a thoughtful expression, 'I suppose I might try to avoid any behaviour that could cause a scandal, although I can't speak for my friend Cato. He's the one you should keep an eye on.'

'Really?' Sempronius looked at Cato with raised eyebrows.

'Ignore him,' Cato muttered. 'Just ignore him.'

Thermon rapped his staff on the ground and the conversation died abruptly as the Palmyran nobles turned towards the entrance to the roof garden and bowed their heads. Sempronius gestured to his companions to do the same. After a moment's stillness, King Vabathus came striding through the doorway. He swept through the small crowd of guests and eased himself down on to the royal couch. Thermon waited for his master to settle and then rapped his staff again.

'All may be seated!'

The guests hurriedly took up their places and a low hubbub of conversation slowly swelled to a more comfortable volume. Macro and Cato, lying on their couches to the right of the king, kept quiet, waiting to be addressed by him.Vabathus regarded them for a moment and then cleared his throat.

'We owe you our gratitude, Romans, for the fine defence of the citadel gates this morning.'

Macro bowed his head. 'Thank you, sir, but we were just doing our duty.'

The king gestured towards Macro's arms. 'You are wounded?'

Macro shook his head. 'Just some burns, sir. They'll heal in a few days.'