Hamedes seemed troubled. ‘The truth is, sir, that I wish to find a place in one of the older temples that still hold to the old faith. Not here, with these con men. I want to return to the upper Nile, where I was raised.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘And you still need someone who speaks the native tongue, to help you find the gladiator and his followers. I might serve you a while yet, before returning to the priesthood. You know I have as much reason to find him as you do. The blood of my brother priests demands justice.’

‘Yes.’ Cato could see the intensity of Hamedes’ gaze and guess at the feelings that filled his heart and mind and fuelled his desire for revenge. He nodded. ‘Very well, you can join us. I’ll have you enrolled as a scout. Might as well be paid for your efforts.’

The priest smiled. ‘I am in your debt, sir.’

The Nile barges were heavily laden with military supplies for the coming campaign: baskets filled with arrows, the heavier shafts of ammunition for the bolt throwers, newly forged sword blades, shield bosses and trims, tubs of nails and boots. There were scores of legionaries and officers who had been on leave, or detached service, and were returning to their units, along with some fresh recruits. Cato, Macro and Hamedes, laden down with the kit they had retrieved from the Alexandrian fleet, boarded one of the last vessels to leave and were ushered out of the way to the small foredeck while the crew thrust the vessel away from the quay and hoisted the large triangular sail. The hold had been filled and sacks of grain and jars of oil and wine were heaped across the deck.

‘It’s a wonder the tub stays afloat,’ Macro mused as he set his kitbag down and made himself comfortable under the small awning that covered the foredeck.

Cato nodded. There was scarcely more than a foot of freeboard over the side and he wondered what would happen if the barge was caught by a sudden gust of wind. With all the cargo aboard, it would surely sink like a rock and Cato had no desire to be pitched into the Nile. It was not the prospect of swimming to the nearest bank that concerned him so much as the thought of the crocodiles that might be lurking amid the reeds, waiting to snap up some easy prey.

‘Rest easy, Centurion.’ Hamedes smiled. ‘The waters of the Nile are always calm, and the wind constant. There is no cause for alarm. Besides, I have an offering of a jar of oil for the Nile gods.’ He patted his kitbag. ‘They will protect us.’

‘I’m not bloody alarmed,’ Macro growled. ‘I’m just saying the boat looks overloaded, that’s all.’