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sign of opulence. Indeed, he carried little on his horse apart from a small bundle of spare clothes, a thin curved sword, and a compound short bow and a quiver of arrows. He had a pleasant, round face and spoke Greek fluently. More than fluently, Macro realised. Macro’s grasp of the language was limited, no more than the basics learned from Cato on the voyage from Ravenna. With the diversity of languages at this end of the Empire, the common second language was Greek and Macro had to be able to make himself understood. The guide’s accent was flawless. The effect was so unexpected that Macro was instinctively suspicious of the man. Yet he seemed friendly enough and had clasped forearms in a firm and frank manner when he had been introduced. Cato was smiling at some comment the guide had made, and then he turned away and strolled over to join Macro.
    ‘Symeon has been telling me about the route to the fort.’ Cato’s eyes glinted with excitement. ‘We go east to Qumran, on the shore of the Dead Sea, then cross the River Jordan and climb the hills on the far side up on to the escarpment.That’s where the desert begins, and that’s where the fort is.’
    ‘Oh joy,’Macro replied tonelessly.’A desert. Can’t wait to discover what they do for entertainment out that way. Finally, after all these years, I make it out to the eastern provinces. Do I get to see the fleshpots of Syria? I do not. Instead I spend the time in some far-flung fort in the middle of a bloody desert where I’ll be lucky if the sun doesn’t fry my brain to a crisp every day. No. I’m sorry, Cato, but I just can’t seem to share your obvious pleasure at the prospect. Sorry.’
    Cato punched him on the shoulder. ‘We’re going to spend tonight by the Dead Sea, you idiot. Surely you want to see that?’
    Macro stared at him. ‘Dead Sea? Does that sound like a nice place to you?’
    ‘Oh, come on.’ Cato grinned.’You must have heard of it.’
    ‘Why?’
    Cato looked stunned. ‘It’s a natural wonder. I read about it back in Rome when I was a boy.’
    ‘Ah, well.You see, while you were busy reading about natural wonders, I was busy learning how to be a soldier and sticking it to those barbarians up on the Rhine. So excuse me for not being up to speed on sightseeing attractions at the arse end of the Empire.’
    Cato grinned. ‘All right then, misery-guts. But just you wait until you see it tonight.’
    ‘Cato,’ Macro began wearily. ‘Once you’ve seen one sea, you’ve seen ‘em all. There’s nothing special or even nice about the sea. After all, fish fuck in it and shit in it. That’s as magic as a sea gets.’
    Before Cato could respond the decurion in command of the squadron bellowed the order for his men to mount and the courtyard of the fortress was filled with the sounds of horses stirring and scraping their hooves across the paving stones as their riders swung themselves up on to their saddles. The leather seats gave under the weight of the riders and the saddle horns squeezed slightly inwards, giving the cavalrymen a steady position on top of their mounts. The two centurions abandoned their conversation and climbed on to their horses in a somewhat ungainly manner, and then steered their beasts over to the middle of the column. Florianus had suggested that this would be safest for them until they were outside the walls of Jerusalem, when they could join Symeon and the decurion at the head of the column. Macro was not entirely happy about the precaution.
    ‘I don’t like being nursemaided,’ he grumbled.
    ‘Better than being assassinated,’ Cato replied.
    ‘Let ‘em try.’
    The decurion glanced round at his squadron, saw that all was ready, and raised his arm.
    ‘Column! Advance.’ His arm swept down towards the gate and the sentries stood aside under the great arch as the column clopped forward, out into the street that ran down from the Antonia, alongside the north-facing mass of the temple complex towards the