Abruptly, Macro’s lips froze as his mind flashed back to the morning ride up towards the plateau, the sudden appearance of Bannus and his brigands, and then the dumping of all the baggage as the cavalry squadron desperately prepared to fight its way through to the fort.

Macro’s lips moved again. ‘Oh, shit.’

07 The Eagle In the Sand

CHAPTER EIGHT

Once again Cato faced the druid, but this time his foe was far taller than Cato, dwarfing him so that he felt like a child.The druid’s eyes were jet black and his teeth were needle sharp, as if they had been filed. In his hand he held the scythe, and as Cato’s eyes fixed on the glinting edge the druid raised it high. For an instant the blade glittered as it caught the moon’s silvery rays. Then it slashed down, slicing towards Cato’s throat.

He woke with a cry, and jerked up on to his elbows. His eyes were wide open, darting from side to side as he took in his surroundings. A small, darkened room, unfurnished apart from the bedroll he was lying on. He made to move, but there was a sudden pounding in his skull as if a heavy mallet was rhythmically beating the side of his head. Nausea welled up from the pit of his stomach and he quickly turned on one side and retched.The door opened, and light flowed into the small room.

‘Lie down, Roman.’ A woman spoke softly in Greek. She crouched beside the bedroll and gently pressed Cato back so that his head was resting on the bolster again. ‘You’re still suffering from the effects of that blow to your head. It will pass, but you must lie still and rest.’

As his eyes grew used to the light Cato glanced up at the woman. Her face and voice were familiar, and memories flashed into his mind of the ambush, the flight from the brigands and his arrival in a village where he had glimpsed this woman between blackouts.

‘Where am I?’

‘Safe.’ She smiled. ‘For the moment.’

‘This place. What was it called?’

‘Heshaba.You are in my house, Roman.’

Cato remembered another detail. ‘Symeon . . . where is he?’

‘He’s taken the horses further into the wadi to hide them. He’ll be back soon.’

She shuffled round behind the bolster and Cato heard the swill of water. A moment later she placed a damp cloth over his head and squeezed gently so that a dribble of water trickled down over his temples.

‘That feels good. Smells good too. What is that? Lemon?’

‘I squeezed some into the water. It’ll refresh you and ease the sick feeling.’

Cato made his body relax, working the tension out of his muscles until his limbs felt loose, and the pounding in his head subsided. Then he rolled his head to the side to better see the woman.

‘I can’t remember your name.’

‘Miriam.’