The continued along the track, with Cato and Macro keeping watch on their flanks and the way ahead while Decimus nervously glanced over his shoulder every few breaths. The horsemen behind them seemed to make no attempt to draw any closer and aside from the odd soft whinny or the faint clatter of hoofs on stone, it was hard to believe they were not alone in this ethereal, menacing landscape of cold, damp and shadows. A half mile further on Macro edged his mount alongside Cato and spoke softly.

‘There’s more of ’em off to the left.’

Cato nodded. ‘I noticed them a few moments ago.’

‘And you didn’t say anything?’

‘Didn’t want to scare you.’

‘Ha . . . ha . . .’ Macro intoned, deadpan, as they both faced ahead but swivelled their eyes to the left. The ground was more even now, as the valley spread out on either side in the thinning mist. A quarter of a mile to their left was the edge of a forest. Moving along the trees was a line of horsemen, ten of them. They were too distant to make out in any detail. With a sudden inkling Cato glanced to his right. A similar distance away another party of riders was tracking them.

‘I fear we have walked, ridden I should say, into a trap, Macro. Look there.’ He gestured subtly and Macro turned, and swore under his breath.

‘Why don’t they attack?’ Macro asked. ‘Surely they can see they have the drop on us?’

Cato was thinking swiftly. There was no way out but to continue forwards. Half a mile further on the route entered a wood that sprawled a good way across the valley floor. If they could reach the trees far enough ahead of their pursuers they might be able to turn off the track and hide amongst the trees.

‘Sir!’ Decimus called softly. ‘Have you seen, they’re all around us!’

‘I see ’em,’ Cato replied calmly. ‘Just ignore them. Until I give the word.’

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Macro.

Cato did not answer. He calculated the distance remaining, and the angle the pursuers would have to take to continue following them into the wood. They would have to abandon the mules. The small beasts were too slow. Cato, as was his way, briefly considered all the alternatives, even ruthlessly abandoning Decimus to his fate in order to give himself and Macro a chance to escape. Just as typically, he instantly abandoned the notion. Whatever logic dictated, there was a code of conduct that embraced those entrusted with command, and it would be unthinkable to sacrifice Decimus.

Slowing his horse so that he dropped back towards his servant, Cato spoke quietly. ‘When I give the word, Decimus, you get off the mule and climb up behind me.’

‘What about the prisoner?’ asked Macro.