Do you really think he would stop at the senior political figure in Crete? Sempronius would be the first for the chop and my guess is we wouldn't be far behind.'

'Shit... you're right,' Macro muttered and glanced towards a distant hillock where a small band of slaves was still shadowing the column. 'Why is it always us that land in the shit? Always us.'

Cato looked at his friend and smiled. 'I asked you that question once.'

'Really? What did I say?'

'You looked at me, in that barely tolerant way that you do, and said,' Cato cleared his throat and did a passable imitation of the tone of voice Macro adopted with the thickest of his recruits,' Why us?

Because we're here, lad. That's why!

Macro stared at Cato. 'I said that?'

'You did. Quite a good aphorism I thought, at the time. Very stoic.'

'Load of shite, more like. If I say anything like that again, then feel free to kick me up the arse.'

'If you insist.'

There were no more attacks on the column as it approached Matala. In the gathering dusk the slaves who had been watching them turned away and vanished into the shadows stretching across the landscape. There was one last precaution for Macro to take before they returned to the town. He ordered a brief halt as the chains were replaced on Atticus and he was secured to the driving bench. One of the auxiliaries took over the reins. Atticus glowered at Macro and raised his foot to shake the heavy iron links from side to side.

'What is the reason for this, Centurion? I don't deserve this. Not after all I have done today'

You have been useful,' Macro agreed. 'But you're a proven troublemaker, and right now I can't afford to let you stir the shit up amongst the people of Matala.'

'I risked my life to obtain the food in these wagons.'

'Sorry. You know how it is with leopards and spots. I don't think I can trust you. Not just yet.'

'Then when?'

'When I decide, and not before.'

'I suppose you will say that my being held in chains is for the good of my people?'

'Your people?' Macro chuckled.' When did they be come your people? You are your own mouthpiece, not theirs. Now then, do be a good prisoner, eh? I would hate to have to convince you to behave.'

He held up a clenched fist. 'If I make my point clear.'

'Your merest threat of violence is powerfully eloquent,' Atticus replied coolly. 'You have me for now, Macro, but when I am released I will pay you back, with interest.'

'Of course. I'll look forward to it.' Macro slapped the rump of the nearest horse from the team drawing the first wagon and the animal jolted forward. The auxiliary cracked his whip and the rest of the team broke into a walk. As the wagon lurched forward, Atticus toppled backwards on to the sacks of grain piled behind the driver's bench, causing Macro to laugh.

'Bit hard on him, don't you think?' asked Cato.

'Perhaps.' Macro shrugged. 'But I'm not taking any risks, not until we have the situation in hand.'

'Who knows how long that will be?'

The column trundled round the last bend in the road, and there before them lay the ruins of Matala and the refugee camp. As the people caught sight of the loaded wagons with the wounded perched on top they began to call to their friends and family and hurried through the tents and shelters towards the road. As he watched the surge of humanity sweep across the slope, Cato glanced round at the thin screen of soldiers and cavalry.

'Decurion!' he called out to the commander of the squadron.

'Have your men close up round the wagons. Keep those people away'

'Yes, sir!'The decurion saluted and turned to pass the orders on to his men. The riders nudged their mounts in towards the side of the road so that the wagons were protected from the approaching crowd.

Cato glanced ahead. There was still half a mile to go before they reached the ramp leading up to the acropolis. The first people drew up across the road, fifty paces ahead of the front of the column.

Macro hauled himself up beside the driver of the leading wagon and cupped a hand to his mouth.

'Make way there!'

After a moment's hesitation, the townspeople shuffled aside, and stood and stared at the laden wagons with hungry eyes. More and more people arrived to swell their ranks, and inevitably the pressure from behind forced those at the front back towards the road. The driver of the first wagon instinctively allowed his horses to slow down for fear of running into the nearest civilians.

'Clear the way!' Macro shouted again.' Move back, damn you!'

As those closest struggled to do as they had been ordered, there were angry shouts from the back from those who feared they would miss out on any food that might be distributed. Macro turned to the decurion.

'Take eight of your men, and clear the road.'

'Yes, sir! You men, follow me.' The decurion dug his heels in gently and walked his horse forward, followed by his men, fanning out either side of their leader. As they closed in, Cato could see the frightened expressions of the people in the crowd as they pressed back. The fear spread through the packed ranks like wildfire and they recoiled from the horses as the decurion led his men down the road.

Macro turned to the driver and muttered, ' Keep up with them.'

With a crack of the whip the wagon lurched forward again, rumbling over the worn paving stones leading up to where the town gate had once stood. Cato, the auxiliaries and volunteers increased their pace to keep up, and to his side he saw the hostile faces in the crowd as the column passed through.

'Bloody Romans!' a man in a torn tunic shouted, and raised his fist. 'They're going to keep it all to themselves!'

His anger was taken up by others and the air was filled with jeers and shouts. A mother raised her infant up for the passing horsemen to see and cried out in a shrill voice that her baby would soon die unless he was properly fed. Cato was tempted to offer some reassurance, and promise that they would receive a fair share of the rations, but realised it would be a pointless gesture. His voice would be drowned out by the din assaulting the column on all sides, and it would only make him look weak.

Distracted by the baying of the crowd, he failed to notice Atticus edging his way along the grain sacks piled on the leading wagon.

When he came to the end of his chain, Atticus stopped and continued on his stomach until he could reach the end of the wagon.

Cato's gaze turned away from the crowd and he started as he saw Atticus lying full length.

What's he doing?' asked one of the auxiliaries marching beside Cato.

Bracing his feet, Atticus thrust his arms against the rearmost sacks of grain.

'Stop him!' Cato shouted, springing towards the wagon. But it was too late. The first of the sacks on the top of the pile tipped over the end and toppled on to the road. It landed with a soft thud and split.

Grain exploded across the road with a swift, soft hiss. A second sack was already falling as Cato caught up with the wagon and hauled himself up. He saw Atticus struggling to push yet more of the grain on to the road, and stamped down hard on his arm. Atticus cried out as the nailed studs bit into his flesh and snatched his other arm back to try to shift Cato's boot. Leaning down, Cato hauled the third sack back so that it was in no danger of falling. Before he could think to do anything else, there was an excited shout from the crowd and a man darted between the horses and went down on his knees to claw the grain into a fold in his tunic. At once others followed suit and the auxiliaries were shoved aside as people frantically pressed through to get at the spilled grain.

Leaning down, Cato glared into Atticus's eyes and clamped a hand round the man's throat. 'Try anything else, and I swear I will cut your throat where you lie. Understand?'