Gods below, has is come to this already? He dropped his hand to his hilt. Glancing at the warriors in front of the barracks, he drew his sword.

The enormous bearded officer did not flinch. He was laughing. Even in his good humour there was an undertone of menace. Towering over Valens, he spoke in heavily accented Greek. ‘At least you understand that, you son of a whore. Now, all of you, unload the wagon.’

*

Valens was cleaning and mending armour and tack with Narses and Iudex. They were sitting around a brazier outside the barracks. It was late in the afternoon, and would soon be time to eat.

Today could not have gone better. Valens still felt guilty about killing the wagoner in cold blood. His words – death is the last thing that you have to worry about – had been nothing but a sophistry. But it had to be done and, if he himself was reluctant, he could not order one of the men to carry out the execution. After the driver was dead, his corpse had joined those of his companions in the ravine. They had rounded up the loose horses and kept those that seemed in better condition than some of their own. Narses had appropriated the officer’s Nisean stallion as appropriate for his role. There was a risk that some of the garrison might recognise the horse of one of the dead men, but they were not branded, and it was a risk worth running to be well mounted, given what was planned. When every man had selected a horse, they set four aside as spares and for their supplies and baggage. It was with the greatest sadness that they slaughtered the remaining animals, and pushed them over to tumble down the precipice. It was good that they had left at once. By the time they had set out, vultures had materialised from nowhere, and were drifting down towards the unexpected bounty.

‘It is a pity Zabda is dead,’ Narses said.

Valens looked up from sharpening his dagger.

Narses nodded up at the tower. ‘The sly old Palmyrene could have opened that locked door with his eyes shut.’

‘And the guards inside?’ Valens said. They had watched the guard change during the day. There was always one on the roof of the tower, another somewhere behind the locked door.

‘Any of us can deal with them,’ Iudex said. ‘Even you.’

Valens did not reply, but tucked the knife into his boot and set about mending a broken bridle.

‘Zabda was a thief, but I liked him.’ Narses grinned at Valens. ‘Of course you two got off to a bad start, what with him trying to kill you in that bar.’

They spoke in Latin, confident that, while some of the garrison would speak some Greek, none would know that language.