Before long, folk from the villages left the main track and the column thinned. There were still over a hundred people, with about a dozen merchants and their escorts and the rest individuals and families. A quarter of them went their own way by noon, while the rest kept going, most heading for Syria and the main ferry-crossings at Zeugma. It was not an organised caravan, for there should not be need for such protection in this area. Even so, when they stopped for the night they camped in a circle, lit plenty of fires and agreed to organise a watch for the hours of darkness. Before they settled down Vindex had glanced questioningly at Ferox who shook his head. This was not the time. The Carvetian did not need to say that the rider in green was no longer with them.

Nothing happened during the night, and during the next day only a handful of people went their separate ways as the procession trudged on. There were two riders either side of them, taking a little more care to hide, but in country like this Ferox still had a fair idea where each of them was, at least most of the time. One merchant left the road late morning. He had a bodyguard, and a slave leading three donkeys, their panniers light which suggested that his purse was full. The four horsemen did not follow him and were still in place by the middle of the afternoon.

Ferox had a plan. So far they had done well and done the two things they were sent to do. Ferox had taken a good look at Nicopolis’ fortifications, making some notes, but storing more in his head so that he could explain to someone skilled in making a plan of it all. He had not liked what he had seen, but that was not the point. Although he had begun to doubt, late in the day they had a visit at the stall from a merchant from Edessa, who gave ‘Demetrios’ a small jar of unguent and said the right words to make clear that this was the message from the princess.

Seeing Domitius had been a surprise, and Ferox was still not quite sure what to make of it. The note written on the broken piece of pottery was short and simple, advising Ferox not to trust Lucius Valerius Messalinus. Given that this was the tribune Ferox had killed earlier in the year, this was of little use, although it might suggest that the former optio was as honest as he had seemed. Ferox had not wanted to kill the tribune, for all that the man deserved it. It would have been better to pressure the officer into talking, for he was not the real chief in all this. The man must have been warned, for he had two soldiers with him and was determined to fight with a courage surprising in a man so fat and apparently slothful. They died and Ferox did not, so there was a good outcome in that sense, even if it left him with few leads.