Macro and Cato waited while Symeon rode into the wide mouth of the wadi and scanned the ground before him, looking for tracks. As the patch of stony ground gave way to the bright red sand he found what he was looking for and beckoned to the others. Macro and Cato urged their mounts forward, picking a route through the rocks until they reached their companion. Symeon had dismounted and pointed out the hoof imprints.

‘Definitely horses.’ He stood up and followed the line of the tracks stretching out into the sand until they faded in the distance, in line with the edge of a large dune and one of the vast towers of rock beyond.

‘It has to be Bannus,’ Cato commented. ‘Who else would ride into a wilderness like this?’

Macro grunted. He had finally consented to wear a headdress like the local people and was now grateful that it was keeping the sun off his head. Even so, it was three days since they had galloped out of the siq, desperately trying to catch up with Bannus. Initially there had been no indication which direction he had taken, but then the pursuers had chanced on a shepherd boy in the hills half a day’s ride to the south of Petra who had seen a man and a boy ride past, heading south. Symeon and the two Romans had followed, moving from sighting to sighting and once finding the smouldering remains of a small fire. They were already far off the established caravan routes and heading towards the deep desert of Arabia. A chance sighting of a puff of dust in the distance had drawn them to this vast expanse of red sand that formed the bed of a giant maze of sheer rock formations, known to the nearest tribes as Rhum. No horseman had any reason to be in a place like this, unless he was on the run.

‘Bannus,’ Symeon agreed, and remounted. He drew in his reins and they continued riding into the vast mouth of the wadi, which stretched out for miles ahead of them. The tracks were easy enough to follow, and Cato wondered why Bannus had chosen to cross terrain that would leave proof of his passing in such an obvious manner. But then, Bannus would be desperate, especially if he knew that he was being followed. The Nabataeans had immediately sent messengers south with a description of the man and so there would be little chance of hiding in that direction. All that was left to Bannus now was Arabia, and the hope that he could cross it and then ride north to his friends in Parthia. He no longer cared about hiding his tracks, only about putting as much distance as possible between him and his pursuers.