Chapter 3

‘Centurion Paulus is not here, sir.’

‘Where is he?’

‘In the city, sir.’

‘And when Centurion Paulus goes to the city, is there no one in command?’

‘Centurion Sextus, sir; but he is resting, and has given orders not to be disturbed.’

Marcellus advanced a step and stared into the sulky eyes.

‘I am not accustomed to waiting for men to finish their naps,’ he growled. ‘Obey me—instantly! And wash your dirty face before you let me see it again! What is this—a Roman fort, or a pigsty?’

Blinking a little, the sentry backed away for a few steps; and, turning, disappeared through the heavy doors. Marcellus strode heavily to and fro before the entrance, his impatience mounting. After waiting for a few moments, he marched up the steps, closely followed by Demetrius, and stalked through the gloomy hall. Another sentry appeared.

‘Conduct me to Centurion Sextus!’ shouted Marcellus.

‘By whose orders?’ demanded the sentry, gruffly.

‘By the orders of Tribune Marcellus Gallio, who has taken command of this fort. Lead on—and be quick about it!’

At that moment a near-by door opened and a burly, bearded figure emerged wearing an ill-conditioned uniform with a black eagle woven into the right sleeve of his red tunic. Marcellus brushed the sentry aside and confronted him.

‘You are Centurion Sextus?’ asked Marcellus; and when Sextus had nodded dully, he went on, ‘I am ordered by Prince Gaius to command this fort. Have your men bring in my equipment.’

‘Well—not so fast, not so fast,’ drawled Sextus. ‘Let’s have a look at that commission.’

‘Certainly.’ Marcellus handed him the scroll; and Sextus, lazily unrolling it, held it close to his face in the waning light.

‘I suggest, Centurion Sextus,’ rasped Marcellus, ‘that we repair to the Legate’s quarters for this examination. In the country of which I am a citizen, there are certain courtesies—’.

Sextus grinned unpleasantly and shrugged.