The far bank of the Jordan rose slowly and the track passed by groves of trees and scores of small farms, drawing on irrigation water from the river that gave life to the entire valley. In the afternoon they approached the line of mountains that climbed up to the great plateau beyond and the land became far more barren with little sign of life apart from the occasional herd of sheep tended by children. As soon as they saw the horsemen approach they hurriedly drove their beasts in the opposite direction, disappearing into the small gullies that meandered across the plain.

As the sun began to sink towards the horizon Symeon led them into the wadi and the track clung to the steep slope as it wound its way up into the rocks.Very soon the track became so narrow that the column could only continue in single file, the horses carefully picking their way along, keeping away from the crumbling edge of the track. Every so often one of the beasts dislodged a small rock that skittered down the slope, trailed by a shower of shingle. The wadi was quite dry and exposed to the full strength of the sun so there was almost no vegetation and the noises made by the passage of the column echoed off the walls of the rock above them.

Cato glanced back and saw they had little more than an hour of light left.

‘Symeon . . . We can’t spend the night along this track.’

‘A little further. There’s a wide ledge. We’ll camp there.’

‘Is it safe?’

‘Yes. The path continues like this at either end of the ledge. There’s no other way to reach it. Not even for a goat.’

Cato nodded with relief.

The horsemen emerged onto the ledge just as the last glimmer of the sun disappeared over the horizon and the sky flared up in brilliant hues of orange and purple. The riders dismounted wearily and roped their mounts together away from the edge. Feed was taken out of the coarse bags hanging from the saddle frames and spread around the animals for them to graze on. Once the optio had posted sentries on the track at each end of the ledge the men settled down for the night.

Macro gave the order that no fires were to be lit. In the clear mountain air they would be visible for many miles and alert any bandits, or worse the sicarians, to their precise position. Once the last of the light had faded Macro, Cato and Symeon sat on a flat rock and stared back across the Jordan valley. To their left the Dead Sea stretched out dark and forbidding as its name.A scattering of tiny lights flickered across the wide floor of the valley, and so clear was the air that beyond, far away, Cato could just make out a cluster of sparks.

He raised his hand and pointed it out. ‘Is that Jerusalem?’