In the flicker of the dying fires he could see the outline of the motionless sentry.

Gods below, how much longer?

As if the infernal deities heard the prayer, a patch of darkness rose up behind the palm where the young Arab rested. It lapped around the tree. A flash of silver in the moonlight. A sudden gasp of surprise and horror. A brief scrabble of boots in the dirt. And all was still again.

None of the sleepers had wakened.

The horse stiffened, scenting the blood. Valens leant a little of his weight against its neck.

‘We must go,’ Iudex whispered.

Valens found himself reluctant to leave the illusory security of his equine companion.

‘Now.’

Together, they ghosted into the camp. Like the epiphany of some dark god, Zabda was suddenly in front of them.

They moved deeper into the encampment, down a narrow alleyway between two shelters. Drunken snoring came from either side. The smells of stale wine and rancid goat meat and unwashed men were heavy on the night air.

Suddenly a man spoke. The words were incomprehensible but loud and distinct.

Valens almost blundered into the back of Iudex.

The three men stood motionless. Valens’s heart was beating so hard against his ribs that he was shaking.

The Arab muttered again, this time slurred and evidently half asleep.

They remained stock still, waiting for the nomad to fall back into a deep slumber.

Valens looked around with loathing. The tent-dwellers huddled two or three to a shelter. He could almost touch the pair to his right. They lay on their backs, unconscious, without a care. Valens wished he could cut their throats, wished he had enough men that he could cut all their throats. The surge of hatred caused not so much by their cruelty to the woman, as by his own terror.

Iudex touched his arm. They crept onwards.

As they passed one of the fires, Valens was surprised by its warmth on his face. He had not noticed the chill of the night.

A pot shard cracked under his boot. Again the three men froze. By the light of the low fire, the occasional tongues of flame, it looked like some macabre child’s game.

Zabda gestured for them to continue.

Valens went slowly, keeping his eyes down, searching for other fragments of discarded and broken amphorae. He placed each foot carefully, the outside of his boot first, in a sweeping motion, feeling for debris, before committing his weight.

Looking up, he saw he was falling behind. A panic seized him that he would be left alone among these savages. Abandoning his caution, he rushed to catch up.

They came out in the small clearing where the woman was tethered to a tree. She was unmoving.

Zabda waved Iudex to keep watch one way, Valens the other, while he went to cut her bonds.