‘It’s not very grand,’ Symeon said as he showed them inside,’but it’s all I need and it’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home. Come, Bazim’s prepared a room for you. I imagine you’re both still tired from the journey here, and a night in the cells hasn’t helped much.’

‘Thank you,’ said Cato. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Then rest. We’ll talk again tonight, over a meal. Meanwhile, if there’s anything you need just ask Bazim. I have to go out now.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, there’s some business that needs attending to. I have to meet Murad and some of the caravan cartels. It’ll take most of the day.’

‘We’ll see you later then,’ said Macro.

Symeon smiled, and turned to leave the house. When the door had closed behind him Macro let out a jaw-cracking yawn and arched his back. ‘I’m all in. Bazim!’

The slave shuffled out of his small room at the end of the hall. ‘Master?’

‘You speak Greek?’

‘Of course, master.’

‘Good for you. Now show me to this room you’ve made ready.’

‘Yes, master. Over here.’ He led them to the rear of the courtyard and through a small passage, and they emerged in a walled garden. Bright plants climbed a trellis that stretched over the nearest half of the garden giving a cool shaded area. In one corner was a large room with a plain bed on either side. The sound of running water caught Macro’s ear and he looked round in surprise.

‘There’s a fountain over there.’ Macro crossed the garden and stood in front of the small basin into which a thin jet of water tumbled from the mouth of a brass lion on the wall. He reached his hands into the water and relished the cooling flow over his skin. In the time since he and Cato had first landed in Caesarea water had been such a precious commodity that to see a fountain here in Symeon’s house seemed like something of a miracle.

Bazim approached from behind. ‘My master thought you might like to rest where you could hear the sound of running water.’

Macro smiled. ‘He was right. Bless him.’

He leaned forward and doused his head in the spray, shaking it off as he stood back up, sending glittering droplets across the paving slabs of the sunlit courtyard. For a moment, he was transported back to his childhood, to the long summer days when he swam with his friends in a small stream that fed into the Tiber. Then the moment was gone, and he was aware once again of how tired he felt. He trod wearily across to the room that Bazim had prepared.

‘Hey, Cato! Where have you got to?’