Cato nodded and they set off again, moving more quickly, ears and eyes strained to detect any sign of the enemy, or whoever might be making the strange noises. They crossed back to the other side of the irrigation ditch and were heading across the fields towards the grass and the river beyond when Cato heard a harsh grunt to their left, and the soft padding of feet. A voice called out, ‘Huthut!’

‘Camels?’ Macro guessed.

Cato increased his pace to a trot and they both hurried across the last stretch of the field and entered the grass. Almost at once they blundered into a crouching figure. Macro wrenched his blade out and leaped forward, knocking the man down. He was about to strike when a familiar voice gasped, ‘Sir! It’s me, Junius!’

‘Junius . . .’ Macro rose up, lowering his blade a fraction. ‘Shit. I almost killed you.’

Cato was furious the moment he recovered from his surprise. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here? I told you to stay with the boat.’

‘Sorry, sir. I heard someone calling out a while back. I thought it best to investigate.’

‘You don’t think. You do as you are ordered.’

The sound of camels grew louder and now they could hear voices as their riders talked to each other.

‘They’re almost on us,’ Macro growled. He thrust Junius forward. ‘Move. Back to the boat.’

The three officers ran on through the long grass, making for the river, Junius stumbling in the lead, Macro next, holding his sword ready, and then Cato, constantly glancing over his shoulders for signs of the camel riders searching for them. Then they emerged from the grass and the broad black expanse of the Nile lay before them. Macro glanced both ways and then thrust his arm to the left. ‘There’s the boat. Come on!’

Cato came out of the grass and saw it, no more than two hundred paces away. As they broke into a run along the riverbank, the swish of grass sounded and their pursuers closed in. They had run half the distance when Junius stumbled and sprawled forward with a loud cry of alarm.

Macro bent down, grasped the scruff of his tunic and yanked the large youth back on to his feet.

‘Just give us away, why don’t you? Idiot.’

‘Sorry.’

Macro kept his fist bunched in the man’s tunic and hurried him on. Cato brought up the rear. The tribune’s cry had alerted the men and they let out a shout as they spotted their prey running along the riverbank. Glancing to his left, Cato could see several of them riding through the grass, as they made to run down the Romans.

Cato realised there was nothing to be gained from trying to be quiet any more and he yelled out towards the boat, ‘Legionaries! On me!’