Even though the sun began to descend from its zenith, the stifling heat did not seem to abate as the afternoon crept by. The column struck on, burdened by the cumbersome weight of their shields and tormented by thirst. As the sun slipped into the haze that banded the horizon, the glare mercifully subsided and the reeds began to shade the Roman soldiers, panting from the day’s exertions. Cato had never known such exhaustion before. Even when he first joined the legion and endured days of route marches, rising at first light, marching in full kit for sixteen miles before downing packs to construct the camp defences and then putting up tents, making cooking fires and only then being allowed to rest, until his turn came at sentry duty. That had been tiring enough, he recalled, but it had been in the temperate climate of the northern frontier in Germania. Here, the heat, stench, insects and the roots and obstacles under the water that threatened to trip up the unwary all combined intolerably and sapped Cato’s strength. Only his will to continue kept him moving forward, step by step.

The shadows lengthened as the column emerged once more from the reeds on to solid ground, and now the broken trail joined an established path, which forked a short distance further on. Cato paused and looked both ways.

‘What do you think, sir?’ asked Rufus, breathing heavily. ‘Left or right?’

Cato wiped the sweat from his eyes and considered the choice. ‘Left seems to head to the north, towards the coast. If I were Ajax I would head south, away from the sea, and our warships. We’ll go right.’

He lowered his shield and strode across the path to a clump of palm trees and pulled out a handful of dead fronds from the ground beneath them. He took out his dagger and quickly stripped the leaves away and then laid the dry grey stems out in an arrow to indicate the way he had decided to head.

‘That’s for Macro,’ he announced, then picked up his shield and led the column to the right, towards the heart of the delta. Although the path was narrow and the tall grass and palms closed in on it from time to time, it was a welcome change from the murky stench of the swamp. They had marched a mile or so along the track when Cato saw the outline of a handful of buildings above the grass, no more than a quarter of a mile ahead. He turned to Rufus and spoke softly as he pointed them out.

‘First sign of life all day.’

‘Perhaps the locals will have seen something, sir.’

‘I hope so.’