Three days later the Sobek led the way into Alexandria’s great harbour. The vast structure of the lighthouse constructed on the rock of Pharos island by order of Ptolemy II towered above the two warships. The men aboard had all been seconded from the Roman forces at Alexandria to help crush the slave rebellion on Crete and so were used to the extraordinary vision of the lighthouse. Cato, too, had seen it before, but nevertheless paused from his pacing up and down the deck to marvel at the scale of Ptolemy’s ambition. Besides the lighthouse, there was the vast complex of the Great Library, the tomb of Alexander the Great and the broad avenue of the Canopus which ran across the heart of the city. Everything about the city was designed to impress visitors and foster a sense of superiority in its citizens.

It was close to midday and the noon sun forced Cato to squint as he looked up at the lighthouse. A steady column of smoke rose from the fire that blazed permanently at the very top of the tower, proclaiming the presence of the city to ships far out at sea, or along the coastline of Egypt.

Cato looked down again, clasping his hands behind his back, and resumed his pacing along the main deck of the warship. It had become a habit since the hunt for Ajax had begun. Being cooped up on a small vessel was anathema to Cato’s restless spirit and the routine of walking the deck gave a limited amount of the exercise he craved, as well as time to think.

He was deeply frustrated by the enforced delay in pursuing Ajax. However, there was no alternative. Even with the food and water they had gleaned from the cargo ship, the men were starving and their throats were parched. They were in no condition to fight Ajax’s desperate gang of fugitives, most of whom were gladiators. Men who had spent years training to do nothing but fight and kill in the arena. The bodies on the cargo ship had been weighted and buried at sea, together with the sailor who had been nailed to the mast and had expired a few hours after he had been taken aboard the Sobek. A small prize crew had been put aboard the cargo ship with orders to make best speed to Alexandria. The warships had gone ahead, driven on by the prefect in his desire to return to the hunt as swiftly as possible.

‘Furl the sail!’ the trierarch, Phermon, ordered from the stern. ‘Make ready the oars!’