‘Cato!’ a voice called out close by and a dark shape loomed up. His vision cleared a little and he saw that it was Macro. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Hit on the head,’ Cato said thickly as he fought to keep his balance. ‘Be fine in a moment.’

‘We haven’t got a moment. Give me your reins.’

Before he could assent, Cato felt them being pulled from his left hand. He grabbed one of the saddle horns as Macro urged his beast on, drawing Cato’s horse abruptly after him. As they fled from the brigands Cato’s vision cleared a little more, but he was still terribly dizzy and the urge to throw up was stronger than ever. Around him he saw that most of the auxiliaries had broken from the fight and were galloping away from the brigands, along the ridge. Behind them the struggle continued round the handful who were still trapped. But already some of the footmen were pointing excitedly at the fleeing Romans and shouting to their mounted comrades. Bannus quickly tried to bring his men to order, but his prey had half a mile’s start on him by the time his horsemen began their pursuit. However, their beasts were light, and the riders wore little or no armour, so they moved swiftly and soon began to catch up with the Romans. But the auxiliaries were well mounted, having the pick of the horses in the province, and soon the greater stamina of the army mounts began to tell as the brigands became strung out, only a handful of their horses able to keep up with the auxiliaries.

‘Stay on the track!’ Symeon called out. ‘Follow it all the way to the fort!’

Cato’s dizziness came and went more and more frequently and he feared that he might lose consciousness. Macro kept glancing back with a concerned expression; it was clear that Cato’s head injury was more serious than it had first appeared.Then it happened. Cato blacked out and started to topple from the saddle. Macro saw it just in time and reined his horse in, letting Cato’s draw level so that he could catch his friend and hold him up. He looked round desperately, but most of the auxiliaries were already ahead of them.

‘Help me here!’ he bellowed.

The rearmost man glanced back, met the centurion’s eyes for an instant and then turned away and urged his horse on. Symeon too heard the call, and instantly wheeled his mount about and galloped back towards Macro.

‘What’s happened to him?’

‘Took a blow to the head. He just fainted. How far are we from Bushir?’

Symeon glanced round at the track. ‘Two, maybe three hours’ hard ride.’

‘Damn. They’ll catch up with us long before then.’

Symeon said nothing. He knew it was true.With Cato needing to be supported Macro would steadily lose ground to their pursuers.

‘What will you do, Centurion?’