‘His idea of a joke, perhaps. That, or something else.’

‘What?’

Cato shook his head faintly. ‘I’m not certain. But there’s more to this than there seems.’

‘Well, if it is Ajax and his men, then we’re back on their trail.’

‘Yes, we are.’ Cato puffed out his cheeks. ‘The timing isn’t great, though.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’ve run out of supplies. Water’s almost gone. We can’t continue the pursuit until we’ve replenished our food and water. We’ll take what we can find aboard this ship, and then make for Alexandria.’

Macro stared at him. ‘You can’t be serious . . . sir.’

‘Think about it, Macro. If he has a day or more’s head start then he could be over a hundred miles away by now. How long do you think it will take us to find him? How many days? If we attempt it then we run the risk of being in no condition to fight him, or being too weak to even make it back to port. I have no choice. We make for Alexandria. Then we take on supplies, and try to get enough reinforcements to search this area thoroughly.’

Macro was about to protest once more when Decurion Diodorus approached to make his report. ‘Sir, my men have searched the ship. There are no other survivors.’

‘Very well. Tell your men to bring whatever’s left of the food and water up on deck and divide it between our two ships.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Diodorus saluted and paced back towards the marines milling about the cargo hold. ‘Right, you dozy lot! Sheathe your swords and down your shields. There’s work to do.’

Macro was staring hard at Cato. He cuffed his nose.

‘What is it?’ Cato asked wearily.

‘I was thinking. You’d better be right about this. If Ajax gives us the slip again while we return to Alexandria, then the gods know how we’ll pick up the trail again. It’s been over a month since we last heard any news of him.’

‘I know.’ Cato gestured helplessly with his hands. ‘But we have no choice. We have to go back.’

Macro pursed his lips. ‘That’s your choice, sir. Your order.’

‘Yes. Yes it is.’