Pollius drew the sword from his belt. ‘This’ll keep ‘em off for a bit. If it doesn’t, then I’ll be sure to use it so they don’t get a chance to make me talk, sir.’

Given that the man was facing an almost certain death, one way or another, Cato weighed his next words carefully. ‘By all means defend yourself. But remember, the men who’ll be sent to hunt us down will only be soldiers obeying orders. They’re not the ones who forced us into this. Do you see what I mean?’

Pollius looked down at his sword, and nodded sadly. ‘Never thought I’d ever have to turn this on myself. I always thought falling on your sword was a hobby of your senators and the like.’

‘You must be going up in the world.’

‘Not from where I’m sitting.’

‘Right . . .I have to go now, Pollius.’ Cato grasped the man’s spare hand and squeezed it firmly.’I'm sure I’ll see you later. A few days from now.’

‘Not if I see you first, sir.’

Cato laughed, then stood up and without another word he broke into a run, following Figulus and the others, already a short distance away. He glanced back once, just before the place they had crossed the stream disappeared from view behind a fold in the ground. Pollius had hauled himself up on to the bank above the stream and sat with the point of the sword stuck in the ground between his open legs. He rested both hands on the pommel, and then lowered his chin on to his hands and sat looking back the way they had come. Cato realised at that moment that his attempt at deception had been unnecessary. Pollius was ready to die, and was determined to ensure that happened before he breathed one word that might betray his companions. Even so, Cato refused to deny the need for the extra insurance. Even the most honourable of men, with the most honourable of intentions, were sometimes caught unaware. Cato had seen enough of the handiwork of the Second Legion’s torturers to know that only the most exceptional of men could deny them the information they sought. And Pollius was only a man at the end of the day.