While the others hurriedly dragged the dead away and then returned and stood around as their replacements, Cato fashioned a torch from some of the kindling lying to one side of the brazier. He plunged it into the fire, waited a moment until the slender twigs and brush were ablaze, then drew it out, stepped towards Macro and the others waiting out of sight in the darkness and held the torch high as he waved it steadily from side to side. Then he turned and thrust the torch into the brazier and stood with the others, waiting. It would take a while for Macro to march the cohort up to the edge of the camp. Until then Cato and his party would have to stand in for the men on watch. He gazed towards the eastern horizon, beyond the fort, and stared for a moment.There was definitely the faintest glimmer of light along the horizon that just demarcated the land from the sky. Cato turned to look for the first sign of the approaching cohort, but it was still too dark to pick them out. A little while after Cato had given the signal a man approached them from inside the camp. He gave a brief wave as he passed by and was singing softly to himself as he headed out into the darkness.

‘Where the hell is he going?’ one of Cato’s men whispered.

Cato rounded on him angrily. ‘Where do you think? He’s having a shit.’

One of the other men chuckled. ‘Then he’s going to have the surprise of his fucking life.’

‘Quiet!’ Cato hissed.

The sound of the man’s singing continued from the darkness a little longer, then abruptly stopped. An instant later, he came scurrying back towards the men gathered round the brazier, wrenching his robes back down over his legs. He jabbed an arm back towards the desert and began gabbling away in excitement. Cato said nothing, and when the man glanced at Cato’s face his eyes widened in astonishment.

Cato had drawn his sword and now raised it quickly and punched the hilt into the man’s nose. He reeled back, and Cato hit him again, a shattering blow to the temple, and he collapsed. ‘Sorry about that,’ Cato muttered.

Moments later the first of the Romans emerged from the darkness and closed on the perimeter of the enemy camp. Cato turned to the other men in his party. ‘Time to drop the disguise.’

They stripped off the enemy’s garments and turned towards the Judaean camp. Cato watched as the cohort approached. He could see the outline of Macro’s helmet at the centre of the line as they came on at a measured pace to keep formation. Then they were visible in the pools of light cast by the nearest fires.

‘Second Illyrian!’ Macro’s voice bellowed out of the night. ‘Charge!’