Praetorian by Simon Scarrow Page A

Sinius has nothing to do with the conspiracy, there’s a good chance he’ll talk about what we’ve said with the other officers. That puts our names about and hints that we might be amenable to an approach from those who are opposed to the Emperor.’ Cato puffed out his cheeks. ‘Anyway, that’s what I thought.’
    Macro nodded. ‘Sounds good. As ever, you have a devious turn of mind, my friend. No wonder Narcissus likes you so much.’ He gave Cato a searching look. ‘Before too long I imagine you’ll be taking over his job in the palace. You’d be good at it.’
    Cato stared at him and responded in a deliberate low, hard voice. ‘I might just do that.’
    For a moment they stared at each other and then Macro slapped Cato on the shoulder. ‘You nearly had me there!’
    Macro roared with laughter, and Cato joined in. They were still laughing when the sound of footsteps approached and a figure appeared in the doorway. Cato looked round to see a thin man with a narrow face watching them coldly. His skin was badly pockmarked and his hair was streaked with grey. Cato guessed that he was a few years older than Macro. He stood up and offered his hand to the man.
    ‘The name’s Titus Ovidius Capito. Late of the Second Legion, before I was transferred to the Praetorians.’
    ‘Capito.’ The man nodded. ‘Glad to see you’re in high spirits. You’re also in my section, as it happens.’ He jerked his thumb at his chest. ‘Name’s Lucius Pollinus Tigellinus. Optio of this century, second-in-command to Centurion Lurco. Your friend there is the other new boy?’
    Macro stood up. ‘The friend can talk for himself. Vibius Gallus Calidus. Also of the Second.’
    Tigellinus sniffed. ‘An undistinguished unit as far as I recall. You may have impressed your superiors in Britannia but you’re going to have to start all over again to impress me, and Tribune Burrus.’
    ‘We’ll do our best,’ said Cato.
    ‘Good, then you’d better get your service tunics on and report to the Tribune.’ Tigellinus pointed at their legion issue. ‘Best get rid of those rags. Sell ‘em in the market, you won’t need ‘em again, and I won’t allow them to clutter up my shelves. I’d move yourselves. The tribune hates slackers.’
    He turned away and strode off down the corridor. An instant later a fresh face appeared at the door and entered the room. He was a young man, possibly the same age as the Praetorian who had escorted them to headquarters, but to Cato’s eyes he seemed too fresh faced to be a soldier. The thought caught him by surprise as he realised that he was only a few years older than the young Praetorian standing before him. A few years of experience that made all the difference, he reflected.
    The Praetorian looked round to make sure that Tigellinus was not within earshot before he spoke. ‘Don’t worry about him. Tigellinus gives all the new arrivals a hard time. Says it does ‘em good to keep them on their toes. Should have seen how he used to treat me.’ He smiled. ‘Fuscius is the name.’
    Macro smiled back. ‘I’m Calidus and the lanky one there is Capito. Transferred from the legions.’
    ‘I guessed as much when I saw the …’ His words trailed off as he pointed at the scar across Cato’s face. ‘How did you get that?’
    ‘Sword cut,’ Cato explained flatly. ‘Last year in … Britannia. Took it when we were ambushed by some Durotrigan tribesmen.’
    Fuscius stared at him for a moment longer in frank admiration, then realised that he must look foolish and flushed with embarrassment. ‘I’ll wager you have quite a few tales you could tell about Britannia.’
    ‘How much will you wager?’ Macro asked drily. ‘If you want decent stories then you come to me, young ‘un.’
    ‘Oh?’ Fuscius did not know how to proceed without offending either man so he just mumbled something as he squeezed past and made for one of the beds either side of the window. ‘Anyway, it’s good to have someone