Macro stared at him. ‘Dead Sea? Does that sound like a nice place to you?’

‘Oh, come on.’ Cato grinned.’You must have heard of it.’

‘Why?’

Cato looked stunned. ‘It’s a natural wonder. I read about it back in Rome when I was a boy.’

‘Ah, well.You see, while you were busy reading about natural wonders, I was busy learning how to be a soldier and sticking it to those barbarians up on the Rhine. So excuse me for not being up to speed on sightseeing attractions at the arse end of the Empire.’

Cato grinned. ‘All right then, misery-guts. But just you wait until you see it tonight.’

‘Cato,’ Macro began wearily. ‘Once you’ve seen one sea, you’ve seen ‘em all. There’s nothing special or even nice about the sea. After all, fish fuck in it and shit in it. That’s as magic as a sea gets.’

Before Cato could respond the decurion in command of the squadron bellowed the order for his men to mount and the courtyard of the fortress was filled with the sounds of horses stirring and scraping their hooves across the paving stones as their riders swung themselves up on to their saddles. The leather seats gave under the weight of the riders and the saddle horns squeezed slightly inwards, giving the cavalrymen a steady position on top of their mounts. The two centurions abandoned their conversation and climbed on to their horses in a somewhat ungainly manner, and then steered their beasts over to the middle of the column. Florianus had suggested that this would be safest for them until they were outside the walls of Jerusalem, when they could join Symeon and the decurion at the head of the column. Macro was not entirely happy about the precaution.

‘I don’t like being nursemaided,’ he grumbled.

‘Better than being assassinated,’ Cato replied.

‘Let ‘em try.’

The decurion glanced round at his squadron, saw that all was ready, and raised his arm.