‘Ajax! . . . Ajax, you are trapped. I’ll give you one chance to surrender, then we’re coming for you and your men . . . Ajax, you hear me?’

There came no reply as he had expected and Macro listened again and then muttered, ‘Damn.’ He turned back to his men. ‘I’m going down there. I’ll call for you if I need help. If there’s any trouble then you pile in and take no prisoners. Got it?’

Macro sheathed his sword and took one of the torches held by his men and inspected the passage more closely. It was steeper than the others they had descended, but no more than twenty feet in length. The floor of another chamber opened out beyond. Macro tested his boots at the top of the ramp but it was clear that he would not be able to keep his feet if he tried to walk down. Instead he crouched down, pushing his shield out at a shallow angle in front of him and held the torch aloft in his sword hand.

‘Be careful, sir,’ said Hamedes.

Macro smiled at him. ‘Here I go.’

Macro shifted his weight and began to slide down the tunnel, his nailed boots scraping over the stone. The rush of air made the torch burn brighter, filling the narrow passage with a fiery glow. Then he entered the chamber and took half a step forward to establish his balance as he reached flat ground. He quickly turned from side to side, waving the torch in front of him. The chamber was much smaller than the one above, with just four columns. There was a crudely fashioned ladder, some discarded cloaks and waterskins lying on the ground but no sign of anyone, nor any sign of another opening in its walls.

Then he heard some scrabbling coming from the far corner of the chamber. Macro raised his torch towards it and saw a man sitting propped up against the wall. He wore only a loincloth and like his comrade in the chamber above he was wounded; he had a large dressing covering his stomach. He held a dagger in his hand but made no attempt to raise it towards Macro. The centurion cautiously approached him and the glow of the torch revealed the man’s glistening skin and the sweat that dripped from his brow. His chest rose and fell in short jerks as he struggled to breathe. He shut his eyes for an instant and then blinked them open, trying to focus on Macro.

‘Where are they?’ Macro asked him. ‘Where are Ajax and the others?’

‘Gone,’ the man rasped, and then licked his lips and smiled faintly as he repeated. ‘Gone . . .’

‘Where?’ Macro asked harshly. ‘They were in this cave. Where are they?’

The other man shook his head. ‘Are you Centurion Macro?’ The man struggled to get the words out.

‘What if I am?’