Beside him Symeon squinted for an instant and then nodded. ‘It is. Your sight is good, Roman. Very good indeed.’

‘In our line of work, it needs to be.’

Macro shivered. ‘It’s cold. I’d never have thought it after the heat down there.’

‘The nights will get colder still when we reach the plateau,’ said Symeon as he rose up. ‘I’ll get our cloaks.’

‘Thanks.’

As the guide strode away towards the scattered dark shapes of the men settling down for the night Cato tipped his head back and stared into the sky. It was, as Symeon had indicated, quite beautiful. Overhead hundreds of stars gleamed with cold ethereal brilliance.

‘You know, I think I can begin to see why our friend likes this life.’

‘What’s to like?’ Macro muttered. ‘We’re cold, surrounded by hostile natives and as far from a decent inn and a warm woman as I ever want to be.’

‘True, but look at the stars . . . the view. It’s magnificent.’

Macro fixed his gaze on the darkened features of his friend and shook his head pityingly. ‘You’ve been in the army for what, nearly four years?’

‘Yes . . . So?’

‘So when are you going to stop talking like some poncy poet?’

‘I don’t know,’ Cato said quietly. ‘When I’ve seen enough of this world to grow tired of it, I suppose.’

‘I can hardly wait,’ Macro said quietly as Symeon trudged back to them with the thick army cloaks bundled under his arm.

In the morning, they continued up the path, still in single file. Most of the men had been too cold to sleep through the night and were stiff and tired. Nevertheless, they kept a wary eye on the cliffs above them for any sign of trouble. Soon the path broadened out into a track and the slope became more gentle. Cato breathed a sigh of relief as he urged his mount alongside Symeon and Macro.

‘Looks like we’ve given them the slip.’

‘Bunch of women,’ Macro growled. ‘That’s what they are.’

Symeon did not reply. Instead he was scanning the low ridge ahead of them that marked the beginning of the great plateau. Suddenly he reined his horse in.

‘You spoke too soon, Centurion,’ he said softly. ‘Look up there.’

Cato’s eyes flickered along the ridge and stopped as he saw a small group of men rising up from the rocks, so that they were starkly silhouetted against the sky. More men appeared, scores of them, and then a line of horsemen, directly across the breadth of the track where it crossed the ridge. As the optio bellowed orders for his men to dump their kit, put on their helmets and prepare their weapons, Macro’s hand instinctively grasped his sword handle.

‘Now we’re for it,’ he said quietly

Symeon glanced round at the centurion with a grim smile. ‘Not bad work for a bunch of women.’