‘What now, I wonder?’ Cato said softly.

They stood in silence for a while, expecting the imminent arrival of the chamberlain and his retinue, but no one came, and the repetitive song of the bird continued to echo off the walls until Macro felt a compulsion to wring its neck and jam the carcass on a roasting spit. Fortunately for the songbird, the doors suddenly opened again and Symeon was shown into the room. He smiled at the sight of the two Romans.

‘There! You look a lot more civilised.’ He gave Macro a quick appraisal. ‘Well, less like barbarians at least.’

‘What’s happening?’ Macro asked. ‘We’ve been waiting here for ages. Where’s this bloody chamberlain?’

‘He’s been conferring with his advisers.The arrival of Bannus, and then you two, has created something of a difficult situation for the Nabataeans.’

‘How so?’

Symeon glanced round before he lowered his voice and continued. ‘One of the Parthians who entered the city with Bannus claims to be a prince of their royal household. If the Nabataeans continue to hold him prisoner, they risk offending Parthia. They’ve heard that the Parthians are massing forces close to Rome’s Syrian frontier. If there’s a war between Rome and Parthia, and Parthia wins, then Nabataea cannot afford for there to be any bad will between them. On the other hand, Bannus and his Parthian friend are responsible for attempting to launch a rebellion in Judaea. If the Nabataeans release this Parthian prince and his friend Bannus, they risk offending Rome.’ Symeon paused to let it sink in. ‘You can see the problem. At the moment they are trying to verify the Parthian’s claim.’

‘But that could take weeks.’

‘Apparently not. Parthia sent an ambassador to the Nabataean king recently.They’re at his palace on the Red Sea. The chamberlain has sent word to the King about the situation and asked that he return, with the ambassador, to Petra.’

‘How long will that take?’ asked Macro.

‘Several days.’

Macro pressed his lips together to contain his frustration. ‘I am not going to be stuck in that bloody cell for that long.You can tell that to your bloody chamberlain.’

At the sound of footsteps approaching Symeon glanced towards the door. ‘I think you’ll be able to tell him yourself.’

The doors opened again, and a small crowd entered the hall, in the wake of a tall thin man, richly dressed.The chamberlain’s retinue of clerks and advisers took their positions on and around the dais. The chamberlain ignored Symeon and the two Romans until he had settled in his seat. Then he looked towards them and smiled an insincere politician’s smile.

‘I apologise for the inhospitable manner of your entry to our city.’

His Greek was cultured and flawless. He sounded more Greek than most Greeks, Cato decided as the chamberlain continued addressing them.