Valens took the first sentry duty with Iudex. Below them the others splashed and laughed in the rivulet. Valens forced himself to look away from the cool tempting water, and scan the bare ochre countryside. He was tired, dirty and hot, but he must lead by example. You should never order men to do what you will not do yourself.

Surely this channel must lead down to the Tigris. Their journey across Mesopotamia was nearly at an end. But any sense of accomplishment was undermined by the thought of what was to come. No matter how dangerous the lands between the two rivers, so far they had travelled through territory at least nominally owing allegiance to the Rome. Soon they would be beyond the frontier. Once they crossed into the world of the barbarians, they would be beyond help from any Roman troops.

Perhaps we already are. The unsettling thought struck Valens. In this wilderness, who could tell exactly where was the boundary between Roman and Sassanid? The very idea of Persia frightened him.

Shapur was said to be cruel beyond measure, and certainly the King of Kings was implacably hostile to Rome. Both characteristics would be shared by his subjects. As well as the fear of pain and death, there was the fear of alienation. Not speaking Persian, Valens would be forced to rely on those that did. Narses, of course, was Persian. Coming from the caravan city of Palmyra, Zabda would have grown up hearing the language. If Iudex had not intervened, the two easterners might have murdered Valens at the start in Zeugma. Their evident continuing hostility did not encourage trust. At least there was also Hairan. But it was sobering for Valens to consider how very little he knew about the warrior from Hatra. Not even what fate had befallen his city.

The four westerners brought little comfort. Decimus the horse master and Clemens the armourer appeared dutiful enough, but Iudex was unaccountable, touched by some god, and Aulus the quartermaster more than reluctant to obey orders or continue the mission. Waiting in the hot sun, Valens turned his problems over until his thoughts became splintered, and the fragments glittered and turned and fell in no order, like a ruined mosaic.

At long, long last Clemens and Narses clambered up the bank, tugging on their armour. Valens and Iudex were free to go down and bathe.

As he lay in the stream, Valens looked at his naked body. His hands and forearms were tanned a deep mahogany, the rest of him was very white. The journey was changing him. He was thinner, and the muscles in his legs more defined.

When he got up, he decided that they had been in the saddle long enough today. After the dangers and privations of the last few days, he was unsure that the men would go on if he ordered them.

Drying himself, Valens ordered the men to pitch camp for the night.