' Quite a view,' Macro said as he reached for his canteen and took a small swig.

Balthus and Cato were lying next to him, in the shadow cast by a stunted bush that grew along the long ridge overlooking Palmyra. Below them the rocky slope fell away until it met the plain which stretched away to the oasis that gave the city its name, and its wealth. Beyond the city lay a dense belt of palm trees and patches of irrigated farmland. To the south was a shallow vale scattered with tombs in the form of small towers.The gleaming walls of the city looped round the domes and tiled roofs of its dwellings and public buildings, built in the familiar Greek style.The main market, courts and temples stood to the west of the city, while at the eastern end a large walled enclosure dominated the surrounding buildings from the top of an expanse of higher ground. Cato pointed it out.

'Is that the citadel?'

Balthus nodded.

'What's the best way to get to it?'

'The east gate. There, see?'

'Yes…' Cato strained his eyes. 'Yes, I've got it.'

The gate was built into the wall without towers and only the thin ribbon of morning visitors to the city revealed its presence to Cato. Hardly a formidable defence, Cato decided. Inside the eastern gate the buildings sprawled low and it was clear this was the poorest quarter of the city. Cato's suspicions were instantly aroused.

'Won't the streets be narrow there?'

'Yes,' Balthus conceded.'But it is the most direct route to the citadel, and the main barracks and palaces are at the other end of the city. If we can gain entrance by the eastern gate before the alarm is given, and move fast, we should be able to break through the surrounding line of rebels and reach the citadel.'

'If we can get in,' Cato stressed. 'We have to make sure that there are as few men as possible defending the gate when the column attacks. Which means there'll need to be a diversion. The garrison in the citadel will need to make a sortie.'

'Sortie?' Macro turned on Cato. 'Have you forgotten? They're outnumbered and under siege.'

'I know. But they must draw the enemy's attention away from the gate if there's to be any chance of the relief column cutting its way through to the citadel.'

Balthus nodded. 'He is right, Centurion Macro.We must get the garrison to help us.'

'Really?' Macro moistened his lips. 'You make it sound easy.'

Balthus smiled at him. 'Surely the soldiers of the great Roman Empire will not baulk at such a minor challenge?'

'They will not,' Macro replied firmly. 'So how do we get to the gate without attracting attention? There's too little cover down on the plain. We'll have to approach under cover of darkness.'

'Of course we will, Centurion.' A frown briefly flickered across the prince's face. 'As I was about to say. We'll follow the ridge round to that point there.' He indicated a low spur that projected into the plain, no more than two miles from the curve of the wall on the northern side of the city. 'We'll have to muffle the horses' hooves with rags and abandon your carts there. We cannot afford to be given away by the sound of wheels or the squeal of an axle.'

'What about our wounded?' asked Cato. 'We're not leaving them behind.'

'They will slow us down. And what if one of them should cry out in pain?You would risk the rest of your men for the sake of a useless injured soldier?'

'We're not leaving them behind,' Cato repeated forcefully. 'And they know better than to put the lives of their comrades at risk. They won't make any noise.'

Balthus' gaze switched to Macro. 'Is this your will, Centurion?'

'It is. Just as Cato said.'

'Very well. But if our approach is detected, and we have to escape, then my men and I will be forced to fend for ourselves.'

'I expected nothing less, Prince.'

'Just as long as we understand each other, Roman.'

'I don't think there's any doubt about that,' Macro concluded, and eased himself back from the shrub, towards the slope behind them. 'Come on, we'd better rejoin the column.'

The three men crept out of sight of the city and then descended to the men behind the ridge. The infantry had been permitted to fall out of line and were resting in whatever shade they could find, or had made their own by hanging their cloaks over their yokes and javelins. The horsemen, Roman and Palmyran alike, sat in the shade of their mounts, holding the reins in one hand. They had approached the ridge early in the morning and halted while the three commanders ascended the slope to reconnoitre.

When they had rejoined their men the column trudged forward again, moving behind the line of the ridge until they reached the spur, where they halted, shortly before noon.

'Why are we stopping?' Macro demanded.

'Look.' Balthus gestured to the dust cloud hanging over the column. 'We can't afford to give any sign of our presence. The ridge is high enough to conceal us from the watchmen on the walls of the city, but once we climb across the ridge they might see any dust we kick up. So, we must stop and wait until dusk before moving on again.'

'Very well,' Macro conceded. 'Until dusk.'

When a watch had been posted up on the ridge they rested under the glare of the midday sun, and once the blazing orb had sunk sufficiently from its zenith Macro gave the orders for the men to prepare for the night march to the east gate. All portable equipment was removed from the carts and distributed to the legionaries and auxiliaries. The small stock of construction timber and spare javelin shafts was used to make stretchers for the wounded and several assault ladders. Meanwhile, Cato gave orders for his cavalrymen to bind the hooves of their mounts with strips of cloth cut from their cloaks.

'You won't be needing them tonight.' He forced himself to smile at Centurion Aquila and the other cavalry officers. 'If we succeed, there's a nice warm billet waiting for you in the citadel at Palmyra. If we fail, well, I doubt we'll need our cloaks in Hades.'

A lame joke, he knew, but his officers smiled appreciatively enough. Despite his youth Cato had led men long enough to know the value of a light touch and apparent fearlessness. He left Aquila to carry out his instructions and returned to Macro. There was one last task to organise.

A message had to be got through the enemy's lines so that the king and his followers were ready to admit the small relief column into the citadel. It was obvious that one of Balthus' men would have to be the courier and once again the two Roman officers were instinctively distrustful of their new ally.

'I don't like it,' Macro grumbled. 'I know he helped us out with those horse-archers, but I still find it hard to turn my back towards the man. And the moment we head towards the gate, we're in his hands. If he should betray us, we've had it.'

'True.' Cato nodded. 'But there's no reason why he should betray us. He has as much at stake as we do in seeing that the revolt is put down. My main worry is that the Parthians might cut a better deal with him than Rome can. I think you're right. We have to watch our backs.'

'Fine words don't make fine actions, Cato. What are we going to do about it?'

Cato thought for a moment, and did not like what seemed to be the best course of action. In fact, the prospect of what he was about to suggest terrified him. Yet, at the same time, there was a peculiar thrill at the danger of it all, and he realised – quite suddenly – that he was getting a taste for taking risks.There was some perverse facet of his nature that craved danger, and he wondered if this desire was so strong that it threatened to corrupt his reason. He felt a wave of revulsion and contempt for himself. If that were true then he had no right to command other men; to have responsibility for their lives. They would be safer under another man's command. That thought made his decision much easier.