The man was surprised, but waved them farewell. They were the only group with a vehicle, and in truth the track did climb up and down some slopes, although they probably could have taken the waggon across with care, and they certainly did not have a heavy load. There was about an hour until sunset, and Ferox wanted to give the horsemen a chance to catch them on their own. Timing was everything. It would be a while before the men from the far side of the road could cross and join their comrades. As he had guessed, they waited until the folk on the track were out of sight and then trotted across. No one was hiding anymore, for the other pair were watching from the brow of a ridge.

‘Now!’ Ferox ordered the driver, and the warrior whipped the team into a lumbering canter. Indike squealed when they hit a bump and she was bounced out of her seat, and then looked embarrassed. Philo was excited, clinging for dear life onto his mule so tightly that he did not risk glancing behind. Bran was riding ahead, searching for any hazard in the ground, but these were gently rolling plains and they sped across them.

The four riders followed, spread out in a line.

‘Go on!’ Ferox yelled to the driver, who cracked the whip again. The mules were labouring, and kicked out, but their anger turned to speed and they kept going.

Vindex rode close beside the waggon and was making faces at Indike, who laughed back at him. Their pursuers were three-quarters of a mile away, horses racing.

‘Keep going!’ The driver whipped the mules again, just as the waggon lurched and this time when Indike bounced up and slammed back onto the seat she giggled.

Hoofs drummed on the hard earth. The mules were sweating, their sides white with foam.

‘On!’ Ferox yelled. The horsemen were half a mile away, riding with the easy grace of Arabs. ‘Keep going!’ There was no one else in sight, not that shepherds were likely to intervene on behalf of strangers.

‘Keep going!’ The sun was ahead of them, a great red ball sinking in the Heavens.

‘It’ll kill ’em if we keep on!’ The driver shouted. The mules’ tongues were lolling out of their mouths, their eyes wide, and he had to flog them mercilessly to keep them running.

‘On! On!’ Ferox yelled. ‘Don’t stop!’ The mules would die and that did not matter if it bought them just a little more time.

‘Nearly on us!’ Vindex yelled. The riders were barely a quarter of a mile back, and would soon be within bowshot, at least if they halted. Still, they were looking right into the setting sun and that helped no one’s aim.

‘Go on!’ It was getting dark, and for once Ferox was glad of the abrupt sunsets of these southern lands. At home his plan would have had no chance, but here he was counting on darkness to make archery difficult and take away the enemy’s biggest advantage. The rhythm of the mules’ footfall was irregular now, the waggon lurching from side to side, and when the wheels’ rims hit a stone they threw up bright sparks.