Macro lowered the scroll to the table and stared at his officers for a moment before continuing. 'As your new commander, I'd like to begin by saying that this cohort is one of the most piss-poor excuses for a unit that I have ever come across.'

Cato winced. Macro had only just taken command of the Second Illyrian and already he was going all out to offend the very men he needed to win over.

'That's right.' Macro glared at them.'Piss-poor is what I said. And the reason for it has very little to do with all the men out there. They're as good as I could expect a cohort to be, posted out here at the arse-end of the Empire. But you lot?' Macro shook his head. 'You're supposed to lead by example. And what a fine bloody example you've been setting. Half of you have been busy toadying up to Scrofa, so you could take your cut of the racket he was running. The rest of you are little better. Take Centurion Parmenion there. He knew what was going on. What did he do about it? Nothing. Just sat on his arse and pretended to ignore it.'

Cato's gaze flickered towards the old officer and he saw Parmenion lower his head and stare at the ground between his boots.

'Well then, gentlemen,' Macro continued, crossing his arms as he glared at them like a disappointed school-teacher. 'Things are going to change here at Bushir. I'll tell you why. It has nothing to do with the corrupt little scams you were so happy to take part in, though we'll be dealing with that soon enough, as you'll see. No, the reason why things must change is that we are on the verge of witnessing our very own native uprising. All thanks to the former prefect's winning ways with the local villagers, and your willingness to go along with him. As we sit here, Bannus is busy building up a formidable band of followers. What you may not know is that, in all likelihood, he has cut a deal with our Parthian friends who have promised to arm his men.'

This information caused a ripple of anxious murmurs to flow through the officers.

'Quiet!' Macro shouted. 'I did not give you permission to talk.'

The men instantly stilled their tongues and Macro nodded with satisfaction. He was beginning to enjoy this feeling of command. 'That's more like it. So, now I think you can see the scale of the challenge that faces us. It's up to the Second Illyrian to find and destroy Bannus and his brigands, before they grow strong enough to come and destroy us. At the same time, I'll brook no more harsh treatment of the local people.We've already done enough to drive them into Bannus' arms. It's probably too late to win them back on to our side, so we're not going to try. What we will not do is provoke them any further. From now on any man, or officer, who wades into the locals will share the fate of trooper Canthus.You all know what happened to him. Now you know what will happen to any others who follow his example. Make sure your men are aware of that. I'll accept no excuses.We cannot afford to act as recruiting officers for Bannus.'

There were some brief disapproving murmurs and some officers exchanged disgruntled looks, until they realised that the new prefect was glaring at them and fell silent again.

'I am aware that none of what I have said so far is likely to have gone down well with you, gentlemen. That's just tough on all of us.The question is, what are we going to do about it? For my part, I'm going to let you start with a clean slate. There will be no further mention of your corruption or dereliction of duty. So you all have a chance to prove yourselves worthy. You didn't win promotion to the rank you hold today by taking bribes, so all of you must have been good soldiers at one time. That time has come again. In the next few days you're all going to do some hard soldiering.Your men will need the best from you and I will not hesitate to break any slackers back to the ranks.You will all lead by example.You will all lead from the front.' He paused to make sure that they had got the point. 'Right, well, that's it.You know what I require from you.There's plenty of work to do, and you'll receive your orders as soon as possible. One last thing. I noticed that the standard of the Second Illyrian carries no awards. That's going to change. I have never left a unit without adding at least one medallion to its standard.The same applies to this cohort. So let's all do something we can be proud of, eh? Dismiss!'

The officers rose smartly to their feet and stiffened to attention, saluted, and then began to shuffle towards the doors leading from the hall. Macro watched them carefully as they dispersed, pleased with his performance and feeling that he had put some iron back into his new subordinates. As the last of them left the hall Cato came over.

'How did you think that went?' Macro asked.

'Blunt, but to the point.'

Macro frowned. 'I'm trying to kick them into shape, Cato, not win first fucking prize in a rhetoric competition.'

'Oh, in that case, it went rather well.' Cato smiled. 'No, seriously, I think that was just what they needed to hear. I like the touch about the standard. Is that true?'

'No. Load of bollocks. But it's the kind of thing that goes down well with the glory-hunters. And that's just what we'll need if Bannus decides to take the cohort on.'

'I suppose so.' Cato conceded. 'And what exactly are your first orders, sir?'

Macro was a little taken aback by Cato's last word, but realised immediately that it was right that his friend should defer to his new rank of prefect. It reminded him of the days when they had served in the Second Legion in Germany and Britain, when Cato had been his optio, and then a junior centurion in the same cohort. Much had happened since then, and Macro had grown used to treating the younger officer as an equal in most respects, but now the situation had changed and the professional in him accepted it as a necessity.

'Has Symeon left for Petra yet?'

'Just before the briefing.'

'Did you make quite sure he understood exactly what I wanted him to do?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good.' Macro nodded.'Right then, it's time we made preparations for dealing with Bannus, and those desert raiders.'

The new prefect of the Second Illyrian made his presence felt at once. Barracks inspections were made at dawn and dusk and every infringement of rules punished. The men were drilled for twice as long as they had been before, and after each century had completed the regulation manoeuvres it was quick-marched round the fort until noon, when at last the men were permitted to fall out, panting and thirsty in the merciless glare of the sun. The officers quickly recovered their professional edge and worked themselves as hard as their men. There were no further patrols into the surrounding villages. Instead the mounted scouts observed the locals from a discreet distance and concentrated their efforts on searching for signs of Bannus and his men.The geography of the region was such that a large force could hide in the caves of the numerous wadis that cut through the landscape. Their only weakness was a dependence on food and water which they needed to draw from the settlements. Whenever the scouts saw a suspicious-looking party of men arrive at a village they attempted to follow them as they left, but always their prey managed to vanish into the clefts of the mountains that rose up on the east shore of the Dead Sea.

Prefect Macro concentrated his efforts on selecting a detachment for a special task. He needed the pick of the cohort's mounted men, and he needed their riding ability to be matched by their skill with a bow.As in many of the cohorts in the region, there was already a small number of men able to use the powerful compound bow favoured by eastern warriors. These Macro kept practising at the hastily erected target range outside the fort, until they were proficient at a variety of distances.