Domitius had already been to see his old mentor. He came out, eyes glassy and shook his head. ‘He’s dead.’ He almost felt cheated that his old mentor had not lived on just these few hours, so that he could have seen Domitius helping the legion, but there was too much to do. He climbed the stairs to the higher cells, and peered through the little hatches in each one. The first along the corridor held several men, the second, two women, but neither were Sara. He thought that the third cell was empty, until the bundle of blankets or rags stirred.

‘Sara?’ he hissed. ‘It’s me, Domitius.’ The shape moved, and he opened the door. ‘You’re safe,’ he said. ‘It’s me.’

Sara sat up and began to weep. Her hair was dishevelled, her clothes torn to rags, and there were bruises on her face and arms. ‘It’s all right,’ he said, as he held her. ‘It is all right.’

Ferox appeared. ‘We need to go. Lady, you are safe,’ he said as soothingly as he could, and hoped that it was true. ‘Here, have my cloak.’ He unclasped the brooch and handed it over. Sara stopped weeping, freed herself from Domitius and stood, taking it. She could not or would not speak, but her face was determined.

As they left, the guard who had been tripped stared wide eyed at them, and especially the woman. Sara saw him, went over and spat in his face. Bran’s eyes went from her to the man, and back again. The guard was cowering as the young warrior walked over and stabbed him in the belly, twisting the blade to widen the wound before wrenching it free. Sobbing in agony, the man slumped onto his side, blood spreading in a pool onto the flagstones. He started to scream, so Bran thrust again, finishing the job.

‘Lock up behind us, and if you have any trouble with them, then kill them,’ Ferox told the wounded and weak men they were leaving behind.

Out in the street, there was no one about, nor any sign that the dying guard’s scream had caused an alarm. Distantly, trumpets sounded, surely heralding the attack. Then in the lower city, flames suddenly sprang up, burning brightly.

‘Sosius,’ Vindex said. ‘Bastard,’ he added after a moment’s thought.

Ferox and Bran walked in front of and behind Domitius, hoping that anyone who saw would assume that the prisoner was wanted for some task. Sentius and his men came behind, and Ferox had ordered them to stick to the shadows as much as possible and be quiet. Instead they were chattering excitedly, stopping only for a moment whenever the centurion hissed them to silence. Thankfully the streets were empty. Behind them all, Vindex escorted Sara, with orders to save her and leave them if anything happened.

A man came running down the street towards them. ‘Have you seen the strategoi?’ he asked.

‘Far side of the Agora,’ Ferox replied, glad that the question was in Greek and thinking of the only landmark he could remember.