Cato caught his eye and nodded towards Scrofa’s side. The broken stump of an arrow shaft protruded from the former prefect’s chest, just below his heart. Frothy blood oozed out of the wound. Macro turned his gaze back to Scrofa’s face. ‘That was quite a charge you led there.You saved us.’

‘So it seems.’ He smiled weakly and then his face screwed up in agony for a moment, before the pain receded. ‘Who would have thought I’d ever save your lives? There’s no justice.’

‘Enough of the hard man act, Scrofa. It doesn’t suit you.’

Scrofa’s lips flickered into a smile. ‘But I was a good soldier in the end, wasn’t I?’

‘You were. I’ll make sure that everyone knows it.’

‘You do that . . . One other thing.’

‘What is it?’

‘Postumus . . .’ Scrofa raised his head with a struggle and suddenly gripped Macro’s hand tightly. ‘Swear to me you’ll make that bastard pay. For running out on us. For his treachery . . .’

‘Don’t worry about Postumus. Last I saw of him he was being run down by scores of Parthians. He’ll not get away. And if he does, and we take him alive, I’ll make sure he knows what you thought of him before you-’ Macro broke off in embarrassment. ‘Well, you can tell him yourself. Once you’ve recovered.’

Scrofa slumped back and whispered, ‘No such luck . . .’

‘Wait!’ Cato leaned over him. ‘Scrofa! You said treachery. What treachery?’

Scrofa’s eyes fluttered and he spasmed, his body arching as the muscles tensed. Then abruptly he relaxed and sank back on to the sand, head lolling to one side. Cato snatched his wrist and felt for a pulse, but there was nothing and he let the arm drop down to Scrofa’s side. ‘He’s gone.’

Macro stared at him for a moment and shook his head. ‘You know, I never thought he had it in him to go out like a hero. It took guts to do what he did. I was wrong about him.’

‘No, you were right about him, up until the end.’ Cato rose to his feet. ‘This was his redemption. He knew that. I saw it when he saluted you. He was lucky to get his chance to do some good before he died.’

‘Lucky?’ Macro stood up. ‘You have a funny idea of luck, Cato.’

‘Maybe.’ Cato looked round. The auxiliaries were spread out across the camp, chasing after the Judaeans. This time it was no ploy to gain time. The enemy was routed and the Romans’ wild triumph and bloodlust was unrestrained. Ahead of them rode the new arrivals, mercilessly running down the Judaean rebels and those Parthian allies who had been unhorsed.