There was no way of crossing the flooded gully and it would be hours before the water level started to drop. The Euphrates was the only path to freedom... at least if he could find a way to cross it. That was a problem to be faced if he could reach the bank. Domitius’ head was throbbing and each thought came only with effort. He had lost all sense of direction, but the water in the gully was flowing to his right and surely it must lead to a stream which in turn would lead to the river. Nursing his arm, Domitius set off along the bank.

Although Domitius would never know, Ferox had been much closer than he expected, already ahead and hoping to cut the fugitive off, until the centurion had run into the two slavers no more than a couple of miles from the place where the mare leaped into the torrent. The man Ferox wounded and spared was less injured than he had pretended, or perhaps just more determined, and before long was making his own way through the night. After that, his luck took a turn for the better when he saw the little cart and the pair of stragglers from the caravan.

Domitius walked and walked and beside him the gully fed into a stream which led through a shallow valley. The stream became broader and began to meander between little rocky hills. He was somewhere between waking and sleeping, as much staggering as walking, and once or twice he fell and felt his arm and side hurt when he pushed up. He lurched over one of the stony humps and ahead were some tiny, twinkling fires, with a silvery plain beyond them. Domitius stared, blinking at the view as his mind struggled to accept that this was the moonlight on water and that he was so close. Then he heard the screams.

A woman’s voice was first, yelling in fear. A man shouted, then another gave more of a hiss than a cry, and the other one grunted in pain. The woman screamed again, and the second man shouted, angry this time. Figures ran towards him, one out in front and another larger shape in pursuit.

Domitius acted without real thought. He drew his stolen gladius and stumbled forward as fast as he could. The woman screamed again, until the cry was cut short and the bigger shape pounced on the smaller one, both of them falling. The man snarled, and when the woman squealed he hit her hard enough for Domitius to hear. He was hunched over his victim, pressing against her legs with his knee and trying to hold down her arms. The woman was sobbing and still struggling, and the man hit her again. He was talking softly now, like someone calming a horse.

The slaver only noticed Domitius when he was close, but saw the glint of the naked blade. He tried to get up and the woman sensed this and rolled, kicking with her legs. The slaver swayed, lost balance and fell. Domitius closed on him silently, his mind too clouded to think of any challenge or threat or even why he was doing this.