‘He takes it too hard.’ Miriam shook her head. ‘He never knew his father. He wasn’t born until after his death. Still, he feels a sense of loss, or lack, and he has filled the void with anger. For a long time his life centred round hatred of Rome and Romans. Until his mother abandoned him and he came to live with me.’ She turned towards Cato and he saw the look of sadness in her eyes. ‘I was all that he had left in the world. And he was all that I had left.’ Cato did not understand and she smiled at his confused expression. ‘Yusef is my grand-son.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Then Cato felt the sudden chill of realisation as his eyes met Miriam’s.

‘His father was my son. My son was executed by Rome.’ Miriam nodded sadly, then slowly turned away. She left the room and gently closed the door behind her.

For what seemed like a long time Cato lay still in the dark room. When he tried to move the pain in his head returned with a vengeance and pounded away so that he felt sick. With what Miriam had told him he knew he must get away from this house, these people, before they turned on him. Despite Miriam’s claims about the forbearance of the villagers, Cato knew human nature well enough to know that old wounds never heal. As long as he stayed in Miriam’s house, he was in mortal danger. But he could not move without being racked with agony. As he lay still, straining his ears to pick up the sounds of the people in the house and the village beyond, he cursed Symeon for leaving him here. Leaving him alone. If he was just concealing the horses, then why in Hades had he not returned long ago? Cato had no idea how long he had been lying there in the dark. He knew that it was light outside, but was it the day of the ambush? Or the next day? How long had he been unconscious? He should have asked Miriam whilst she was there. As his anxiety swelled he rolled his head to the side and glanced round the room.