Cato had slumped down against the wall and felt the urge to sleep closing in on him like a shroud. His eyes felt heavy and he closed them for a moment.Yet he was piqued by Macro’s comment.’Confidence? Yes, I suppose so. He seems to know what he’s doing. And it’s thanks to him that Bannus was defeated at Bushir, remember?’

‘Fair point,’ Macro replied flatly, continuing to stare out between the bars.’I just hope he can get us out of this shithole.’

‘Colourful,’ Cato muttered, and then finally succumbed to his exhaustion as his chin dropped on to his breast and he fell asleep.

A hand grasped his shoulder and shook him roughly. Cato stirred. ‘Leave me alone,’ he mumbled. ‘Go away, Macro.’

The hand shook him again, more forcefully this time, and Cato raised his head, opened his eyes and made to protest again. Only it wasn’t Macro. Murad grinned at him and said something in his own tongue while he waved a finger mockingly at the young Roman officer. Macro was standing behind him.

‘What’s going on?’ Cato asked.

‘Seems that Symeon has sent us a few necessaries.’ Macro gestured to the floor of the cell and Cato saw a bundle of clothes and a small basket of bread and meat. Murad smiled, pointed to the food and then to his mouth.

‘Good! Eat. Eat.’

Cato nodded. ‘I get the point, thanks.’

He rose up stiffly and rubbed his lower back and buttocks, still aching from two days in the saddle. Outside in the street it was dark and the cell was illuminated by three flames of an oil lamp on the ground beside the door. Macro squatted down and tore off a hunk of bread and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed he gestured towards a wax tablet resting on top of the bundle of clothes. ‘He sent us a message as well.’

‘What does it say?’

Macro started to explain, but he had too much bread in his mouth to talk properly and he began to chew furiously for a moment before he gave up and tossed the tablet over to Cato. ‘See for yourself,’ he managed to say.