‘Them, and communities like them, in every city across the eastern world. At the moment they are confused. Miriam, and traitors like Symeon, have been corrupting the message of Jehoshua, telling his supporters that armed resistance is futile and that we must use peaceful means to win over our enemies. That we must have faith in the long term.’ He stared at Cato. ‘Tell me, Roman, what can faith achieve that force can’t? Liberty grows from the point of a sword. That is my creed. That was the creed of Jehoshua, before he weakened at the moment of crisis. That is the creed which Miriam and Symeon and their followers have betrayed. It is the creed I will teach Yusef, and one day he will ride at my side at the head of our army when we liberate Jerusalem. Only then will we have fulfilled the dream of Jehoshua.’

‘With you as the mashiah, naturally.’

‘Of course. I have inherited the role from Jehoshua.’

Cato was aware of something that had been said a moment earlier, and frowned. ‘What did you mean, “before he weakened”?’

‘Ah.’ Bannus leaned forward and smiled. ‘Why don’t you ask your friend Symeon about that? About how it all ended? Now, please excuse me, but I really don’t think that there is much purpose in continuing this discussion. If we ever meet again, Roman, then I will kill you.’

He stood up and strode out of the wine shop and across the forum. Cato watched him until he disappeared up a side street. A feeling of tired despair filled his heart like a lead weight. He had hoped to reason with the man and try, at least, to persuade him to release Yusef. All now depended on the will of the King of Nabataea.

That night, as they dined in Symeon’s garden, Cato was nervous. For the rest of the day, he had dwelt on Bannus’ remarks about Symeon and was determined to find out what lay behind the intense hatred between the two men. As Bazim cleared away the platters of mensaf, and brought them a jug of spiced, heated wine, the three men sat quietly for a moment staring at the stars that shone so brilliantly in the clear sky. A full moon hung over the dark outline of the cliff that towered over the royal palace.

Then there was a dull rap at the door and they heard Bazim’s slow footsteps as he went to answer it. After a moment he emerged from the house and handed his master a small, hinged wax slate. Symeon flipped it open and scanned the message inside.

‘It’s from the chamberlain.The King returned to Petra at dusk. He is in session with the chamberlain and his advisers. Their decision will be communicated to us in the morning.’