‘It’s not a question of winning her round. I’d think she’d see through that in an instant. We’re going to have to play this one very carefully, Macro, if we want her on our side. Anyway, quiet! Symeon is coming.’

Symeon had risen from the bench and was making his way to the two Romans. He tipped his head on one side with an apologetic expression. ‘Miriam has a favour to ask, Centurion Cato.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘She would like us to remove that brigand you skewered. She needs to patch her mattress and wash the bloodstains out before she prepares his body for burial.’

By the time Cato and Macro had heaved the dead brigand out of the house and found a cool spot in the shade for the body, the prefect and the other two squadrons were approaching the settlement. Scrofa rode into the village and halted his column outside Miriam’s house, before dismounting in the same ungainly manner in which he had been hoisted into the saddle. He looked at Cato and Symeon.

‘The missing centurion and his guide, I presume?’

‘Centurion Quintus Licinius Cato, sir.’ Cato bowed his head.

‘I’m glad that our little expedition managed to find you before Bannus and his scum did.’

Cato smiled faintly. ‘They were here not long ago, sir. Macro’s men drove them out.’

Scrofa stared back frostily. ‘They are not Centurion Macro’s men. They are my men until he can provide proper proof that he has been sent to replace me. My men, do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good.’ Scrofa nodded.Then his eyes swept round the village, before fixing on Miriam who was watching them from the bench under her sun shelter. ‘You say that the enemy was in the village when Centurion Macro arrived?’

‘That’s right, sir.’

‘So what were they doing here, exactly?’

‘Having their wounded seen to,’ Cato replied uneasily.

‘So the villagers were helping them?’

‘No. They forced the villagers to help. They threatened them.’

‘We’ll see about that.’ Scrofa gestured towards Miriam. ‘Bring that one over here.’

Miriam had overheard the exchange. She rose to her feet and strode towards the two Roman officers, staring defiantly at the prefect. ‘What do you want of me, Roman?’

Scrofa was momentarily taken aback by her forceful manner, but quickly recovered his composure and cleared his throat. ‘It seems you gave shelter to the brigands.’

‘Yes, but as your centurion said, I had no choice.’

‘There is always a choice,’ Scrofa replied haughtily. ‘Whatever the consequences. You could have resisted them. Indeed, it was your duty to resist them.’

‘Resist them with what?’ Miriam swept her arm out, indicating the surrounding houses. ‘We have no weapons - they are not permitted here. My people believe only in peace. We will not take sides in your conflict with Bannus.’