The next morning, as the column left the fort, the men eyed the landscape around them warily. The previous evening’s attack was not the work of simple thieves. It had been a deliberate attempt on the lives of the two centurions and it was clear that they had been followed from Jerusalem. The survivors of the attack would now shadow them, waiting for another opportunity to strike. It was also possible, Cato thought, that the five men were part of a larger group, in which case the column must guard against ambush.

‘What is the lie of the land between here and Bushir?’ Cato asked their guide as they left Qumran behind and continued along the shore of the Dead Sea.

‘We should be safe enough this side of the Jordan, and some way into the east bank. The danger lies there.’ Symeon raised his arm and indicated the mountains on the far side of the sea. ‘To reach Bushir we’re going to have to climb up a steep wadi.We won’t reach the plateau before dark. If our friends are going to try another attack that’s where it’ll happen.’

‘Is there no other route?’

‘Of course. We could head further north, where there’s a more open road to Philadelphia.Then turn south along the caravan route to Petra. That will add two or three days to the journey. Do you wish me to take you that way?’

Cato thought about it a moment and shook his head. ‘I don’t think it would be wise to give those people any more time to make another attack. What do you say, Macro?’

‘If they’re going to come for us, let them come tonight. I’m ready.’

‘Very well then.’ Cato smiled. ‘We’ll take the direct road.’

They continued in silence for a moment, and Macro’s eyes alighted on the horned tip of the bow protruding from Symeon’s saddlebags.

‘That was fine shooting yesterday.’

‘Thank you, Centurion.’

Macro paused for a moment before continuing awkwardly, ‘You saved our lives.’

Symeon turned and flashed his white teeth. ‘I would hardly be doing my job if the men whose lives I had been charged with guarding had been killed. Why, Florianus would have demanded a refund of my fee.’

‘So you’re a guard as well as a guide?’

‘As I told you yesterday, Centurion, I spent many years in the desert escorting caravans. More than enough time to learn how to use my weapons. And I was taught by the best warriors in Arabia.’

‘Why did you give it up? Escorting the caravans?’

‘It’s a hard life. I was growing weary of it. And now my adopted son has taken over from me. Murad commands a company of escorts and works the route from Petra to Damascus.’

‘Is he as good as you with the bow?’