‘This.’ Ajax smiled and reached for the sacks tied across the back of his horse. He hauled them down and dropped them heavily on the ground at the feet of the officer. The spearmen tensed and lowered the tips of their spears a fraction, ready to strike. Ajax bent down to untie the tops of the sacks and then reached into the first. He drew out a bundle of red cloth and tossed it to the officer. The latter did not flinch as he caught it and unravelled the material to expose a red standard, cut from its jack. It carried the legend ‘Legatus’ in gold letters, and beneath, smeared with dried blood, ‘Candidus’.

The officer smiled. ‘So, slave, you stole the personal banner of the Roman general? Impressive, but my Prince needs warriors, not common thieves.’

‘We did more than steal his banner, my friend.’ Ajax reached further into the sack with both hands and drew out a severed head. He raised it by the hair and held it aloft. The skin was mottled and the eyelids half open over dull eyes. The jaw was slack and the teeth gleamed behind blackened lips. The warm air was filled with the stink of decaying flesh and the officer’s nose wrinkled. He took a step back.

‘May I introduce Legate Caius Candidus, lately commander of the Roman army camped at Diospolis Magna. I have his ring hand in the bag as further proof of his identity. The other sack contains the heads of the officers who were riding with him when my men and I attacked the legate and his escort five days ago.’

The interior of the Prince’s tent was spacious and the ground covered with rugs and cushions. Light entered through slits in the roof held up by several stout posts. Ajax was standing in the middle of the tent, lit from above so that his body was framed with a faint halo as he faced the Prince. Talmis lay on a couch to the rear of the tent. He wore a white robe and bejewelled gold rings adorned his dark fingers. Like Ajax he was powerfully built and the outline of his muscled limbs was evident beneath the light folds of his robes. The Nubian Prince’s face was broad and a finely trimmed beard ran neatly round his jaw.

On a large brass platter between the two men lay the heads of the Roman officers and the ring hand of Candidus. Talmis regarded them for a moment before his gaze moved up to the gladiator standing before him, flanked by two watchful spearmen from the Prince’s bodyguard.

‘It is customary for visitors to kneel before me.’ Talmis spoke Greek, like many of the more educated members of his father’s court. His tone was neutral but Ajax was well aware of the veiled threat implied by the words. Nonetheless, he remained standing and put the onus on the Prince to continue speaking.