'Yes, sir. May I take it that once the campaign against the Nubians is over, you will authorise me to renew the hunt for Ajax?'

'As you wish.' Petronius shrugged. 'However, I suspect that it will be some months before the Nubians have been dealt with. Unless the gladiator is a complete fool he will have fled the province long before then. If not, then I will be sure to consider any request you make. Now, Prefect, you are dismissed.'

'So, how did it go?' Macro asked as he slid a cup across the table to Cato and poured him some wine. He had been waiting in a tavern just outside the palace gates on the Canopic Way, the two hundred foot wide avenue that stretched across the heart of the city. Outside, in the midday sun, tens of thousands of Alexandrians discussed their business or conversed with friends, struggling to make themselves heard above the din of street hawkers and the merchants shouting about their wares to passers-by. Cato had brushed past them, ignoring the endless entreaties to examine their cheap souvenirs and antiques. The traders pursued him with promises that he need only look, without being hassled. Their promises were as cheap as the goods they sold and they only relented when Cato snarled at them to leave him alone.

Cato slumped down on to the stool opposite Macro and Hamedes and quickly drained the cup. He glanced at Hamedes.

'Shouldn't you be trying to find a vacancy in the priesthood of some temple?'

Hamedes snorted with derision. 'Here, in Alexandria?'

'Why not?' Cato gestured along the Canopic Way. 'There's hardly any shortage of temples in the city.'

'The temples here are run by Greek parasites. They filch money from the gullible to line their purses. I am a priest from the true temples of Egypt. I will not defile myself by serving in Alexandria.' Hamedes helped himself to a cup of wine. 'Besides, the Alexandrian priesthoods are a nice little earner and there aren't any vacancies right now.' He shrugged.

'A priest is a priest is a priest,' Macro muttered as he took the handle of the wine jug and eased it back over to his side of the table. 'Anyway, how did it go with the governor?'

'Let's just say that he wasn't too pleased that Ajax got away.'

'So is he going to give us enough men to track the bastard down?'

'Give us men?' Cato laughed drily. 'Far from it. You and I are being sent to join the fight against the Nubians.' Cato pulled the orders he had been given from inside his tunic and tossed them across the table to Macro. 'Read, if you want to.'

Macro gently pushed the papyrus scroll aside. 'What the hell is Petronius playing at? He knows how dangerous Ajax is.'

'It's a matter of priorities, apparently.'

'Priorities?' Macro frowned. 'Since when was letting the leader of a slave rebellion remain at large not a priority?'

'Ah, there you have me.' Cato clicked his tongue. 'That's what I said to the governor. But he was adamant that the Nubians had to be dealt with first. He's probably right,' Cato conceded. 'So, it's back to the army for both of us. Of course, that may yet serve our purpose.' Cato leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. 'The last we heard of Ajax was that he was heading up the Nile. He's on the run. He doesn't have many men left. The question is, what would you do in his place?'

Macro scratched his neck. 'Look for a new base to operate from. Find new allies…' He looked at Cato and cocked an eyebrow. 'The Nubians?'

'That's my thought.'

Macro was not so certain. 'It's a bit of a long shot. Why would he do that? Why not just find a nice quiet route out of the province and bugger off to some far corner of the Empire and cause trouble there?'

'Because the Nubians offer him the best chance of doing more damage to Rome.'

'And why would the Nubians take him on?'

'Wouldn't you? You've seen the handiwork of Ajax and his men. They'd be a useful asset to any army.'

'I suppose,' Macro responded thoughtfully. 'Though I doubt Ajax will take kindly to receiving orders rather than giving them. Trust me, Cato, I've had the chance to watch the man at length. He is determined to serve no master but himself.'

'We all have to swallow our pride sometimes.' Cato eased himself back. 'I could be wrong. He might already be on his way out of the province. But I doubt it. Not while we're here.' A sudden insight struck him. 'In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was hoping that we would be joining the army sent against the Nubians. All the more reason to join forces with them.'

'He hates us that much?'

Cato recalled the insane rage in Ajax's expression the night they had fought in the village and a familiar cold chill rippled down his spine. 'Yes. Yes, he does. I'm certain of it. And that is the only advantage we have right now.'

Hamedes cleared his throat. 'So, sir, when are you leaving for the upper Nile?'

'Tomorrow. There's a military convoy being loaded at the quay on Lake Mareotis. We've been given berths on one of the barges. We leave at dawn.'

'That soon?' Macro thought a moment and shrugged. 'Why not? If Ajax is waiting for us there, the sooner we deal with the bastard the better.' He turned to Hamedes. 'Looks like we'll be parting company. Here's to you.' He raised his cup. 'As gypo guides go, you're all right.'

Hamedes looked at Cato. 'Is that a compliment, sir?'

'From him? Oh yes.' Cato lifted his cup as well. 'Thanks for your help.'

Hamedes seemed troubled. 'The truth is, sir, that I wish to find a place in one of the older temples that still hold to the old faith. Not here, with these con men. I want to return to the upper Nile, where I was raised.' His eyes gleamed. 'And you still need someone who speaks the native tongue, to help you find the gladiator and his followers. I might serve you a while yet, before returning to the priesthood. You know I have as much reason to find him as you do. The blood of my brother priests demands justice.'

'Yes.' Cato could see the intensity of Hamedes' gaze and guess at the feelings that filled his heart and mind and fuelled his desire for revenge. He nodded. 'Very well, you can join us. I'll have you enrolled as a scout. Might as well be paid for your efforts.'

The priest smiled. 'I am in your debt, sir.'

The Nile barges were heavily laden with military supplies for the coming campaign: baskets filled with arrows, the heavier shafts of ammunition for the bolt throwers, newly forged sword blades, shield bosses and trims, tubs of nails and boots. There were scores of legionaries and officers who had been on leave, or detached service, and were returning to their units, along with some fresh recruits. Cato, Macro and Hamedes, laden down with the kit they had retrieved from the Alexandrian fleet, boarded one of the last vessels to leave and were ushered out of the way to the small foredeck while the crew thrust the vessel away from the quay and hoisted the large triangular sail. The hold had been filled and sacks of grain and jars of oil and wine were heaped across the deck.

'It's a wonder the tub stays afloat,' Macro mused as he set his kitbag down and made himself comfortable under the small awning that covered the foredeck.

Cato nodded. There was scarcely more than a foot of freeboard over the side and he wondered what would happen if the barge was caught by a sudden gust of wind. With all the cargo aboard, it would surely sink like a rock and Cato had no desire to be pitched into the Nile. It was not the prospect of swimming to the nearest bank that concerned him so much as the thought of the crocodiles that might be lurking amid the reeds, waiting to snap up some easy prey.

'Rest easy, Centurion.' Hamedes smiled. 'The waters of the Nile are always calm, and the wind constant. There is no cause for alarm. Besides, I have an offering of a jar of oil for the Nile gods.' He patted his kitbag. 'They will protect us.'