Macro considered the plan briefly. ‘All right then, Cato. It’s worth a try. What signal will you use?’

Cato thought quickly. As they had approached the camp earlier he had seen the braziers burning round the perimeter of Bannus’ army. ‘I’ll wave a torch from side to side. That should do it.’

‘A torch.Very well, but don’t take unnecessary risks. If they see through you, just shout and we’ll come.’

‘Yes, sir. I’d better get going.’

Cato saluted the prefect and turned to the nearest men in the line stretching out on either side. ‘This section! Follow me.’

He led the men up the slope in the direction that Scrofa had indicated, and just before the crest they found the bodies of the enemy relief pickets.Ten men, scattered in a loose heap, mostly dead from the injuries they had sustained in the brief skirmish, and a few with cut throats: the men who had been wounded, but could not be left alive to give any cry of warning.

‘Get their robes on,’ Cato ordered. He reached down to the nearest body and winced as his fingers closed on a wet and sticky patch of cloth. Forcing himself to continue, he pulled the heavy wool cloak off the body and draped it over his shoulders. He finished the disguise with the man’s padded leather helmet and then turned to inspect the rest of his party. They stood in native cloaks and turbans and helmets. Cato was satisfied that they would pass for the enemy in the darkness.At least, no one would take them for Romans. He turned towards the enemy camp.

‘Let’s go.’