‘Fool,’ said Tarquinius quietly.

Romulus winced. No man could survive a blow like that. Unlike the one I delivered to Caelius that night, he thought bitterly. It wasn’t me. So who else could it have been?

Terrified of suffering the same fate as their companion, none of the hunters would now approach the zebra. At length, it struggled free of the weighted mesh and galloped off through a gap in the traps.

Romulus wanted to cheer. The promise of freedom was a powerful drug.

‘Let’s go down,’ said Tarquinius.

Romulus hesitated, but it made sense to make contact with the bestiarii. He didn’t know what reception they might receive, but any risk was outweighed by the possibility of joining their party. That would greatly increase the two friends’ chance of reaching Alexandria. There were few travellers in this empty land, and journeying on their own would be fraught with danger.

For some time, the men wrestling with the animals did not notice them approaching. They were engrossed in subduing as many as possible, before the beasts smothered in the netting, injured themselves or escaped, as the zebra had just done.

When they were quite near, Tarquinius called out in Latin. ‘Have you need for more men?’

The nearest hunters turned round in surprise. Ill-fed, dressed in rough tunics and for the most part barefoot, they looked like slaves. In unison, their mouths opened in surprise.

‘Where is your master?’

None answered.

Romulus was not surprised by their silence. With light brown skin, black hair and dark eyes, the cowed-looking men looked Egyptian. Slaves to a man.

Even when Tarquinius addressed them in Egyptian, they did not reply.

A bulky, long-haired figure came striding over from a bull buffalo that had just been restrained. He was dressed similarly to the hunters, but the whip and dagger hilt protruding from his wide leather belt told a different story. Noticing Tarquinius and Romulus, the vilicus came to an abrupt halt.

‘Where the hell have you come from?’ he demanded suspiciously in Egyptian.

‘From there,’ said Tarquinius, waving vaguely to the south.

A little wrong-footed by the blond newcomer’s confidence, the vilicus scowled. ‘Your names?’

‘They call me Tarquinius. And this is Romulus, my friend,’ replied the haruspex quietly. ‘We were hoping for some work.’

‘This isn’t the marketplace in Alexandria. Or Jerusalem,’ the vilicus sneered. ‘We don’t need any more labour.’

Romulus could not understand what was being said, but the vilicus’ aggressive manner did not need translating. This fool is both stupid and bad-tempered, he thought. Yet they could not afford to antagonise him. There weren’t many other options available. He kept his face impassive, while Tarquinius simply folded his arms. And waited.

‘Gracchus!’ There was no mistaking the tone of command. ‘What’s going on?’

The man fell silent. A moment later, a short figure in dark brown robes arrived, the same the friends had seen earlier. He moved to confer with his vilicus.

‘These two just breezed in out of nowhere, sir,’ Gracchus muttered. ‘They’re looking for work!’

The deeply tanned newcomer had a mane of grey hair, a wild beard and shrewd brown eyes. With its metal-shod tip, the well-worn staff in his hands looked more like a weapon than a crutch. A weighty purse dangled from his leather belt, while a number of thick gold rings adorned his fingers. This was a wealthy man.

Romulus and Tarquinius waited patiently.

At length the short man had heard enough. ‘I am Hiero of Phoenicia. A bestiarius,’ he said, speaking Egyptian in a sonorous tone. ‘And you are?’

The haruspex repeated their names slowly and calmly.

Romulus racked his brains. He had heard of a man called Hiero before.

The bestiarius frowned at Tarquinius’ accent. ‘You’re Roman?’ he asked, switching without effort to Latin.

His men looked on uncomprehendingly.

‘We are,’ replied Tarquinius.

‘What are you doing here in the wilderness?’

‘We were guards on a merchant vessel,’ announced Romulus in a confident voice. ‘It was attacked by pirates south of here two days ago. When the ship was taken, the two of us managed to swim ashore. The others weren’t so lucky.’

‘Guards, eh?’ Hiero’s beady eyes lingered on Tarquinius’ scarred face and Romulus’ rusty mail shirt. ‘Not pirates?’

‘No,’ Romulus protested. ‘We’re honest men.’

‘Curious,’ said the bestiarius. ‘The local trireme only left its mooring near our camp yesterday. Before he left, the trierarch mentioned that he hadn’t seen any pirates for a while.’

Romulus did not rise to the bait.

Tarquinius intervened. ‘A trireme? On the Erythraean Sea?’ he scoffed. ‘No such thing.’

‘There is now, my friend,’ replied Hiero smugly. ‘We merchants complained so much that the Roman authorities in Berenice saw fit to commission three ships. They now patrol the seas south of Adulis, and piracy in the area has dropped, thank the gods.’

‘Excellent,’ cried Romulus. ‘With Jupiter’s blessing, they will find and punish the whoresons who killed our friends.’

The haruspex murmured in agreement.

Clearly sceptical of their story, Hiero stroked his beard. There was an uneasy pause. ‘Why have you approached my men?’ asked the bestiarius at length. ‘Do you need some water? Or food?’

It was patently obvious that the ragged-looking friends needed more than this. Hiero is playing with us, thought Romulus bitterly. He wants to know if we can benefit him in any way. But we have no ruby now, like the one Tarquinius had to buy the silk from Isaac. Nothing to buy our passage.

‘My thanks for your kind offer,’ murmured Tarquinius, bowing his head.

Romulus was quick to emulate him.

There was a small smile of recognition, but nothing more.

‘We had actually hoped to join your party,’ ventured Tarquinius. ‘As you know, the journey to Alexandria is long and dangerous. Especially for two men travelling on their own.’

Hiero pursed his lips. ‘I have little need of more mouths to feed every day.’

Tarquinius hung his head, waiting. It was time for Romulus to act on his own.

Romulus’ heart sank. No doubt the bestiarius had plenty of labourers and guards on his well-planned and well-funded expedition. He stared upwards, and a flock of small, brightly coloured birds caught his eye. Darting this way and that, their feathers shimmered brilliantly in the sun.

Tarquinius watched him sidelong.

We are worth far more than the average man, Romulus thought angrily.

Hiero turned to go.

‘My friend here has some medical knowledge,’ Romulus volunteered. ‘He can clean and stitch wounds as well as an army surgeon. I can also, although not to the same level of proficiency.’

The bestiarius spun around, suddenly beaming from ear to ear. ‘Why didn’t you say? Men with your abilities would be most welcome. There are many injured animals that will die without treatment.’ He laughed. ‘And some slaves.’

While exotic beasts were worth huge sums of money, Romulus found it chilling that their lives were more important than those of men.

‘Come! Come!’ Beckoning eagerly, Hiero led the pair away from the nets and pits, leaving Gracchus staring suspiciously after them. Recounting the trials and tribulations of his trip, the old bestiarius walked half a mile to the rear. Here, over a large area, sprawled a large collection of wooden pens and cages. The enclosures were all made of rough-hewn timber planks, fashioned from the trees that stood nearby. Many held antelope, from delicate ones with a white belly and black stripe along the flank to larger ones with graceful spiral horns. All of them clustered together, milling fearfully about their enclosures and sending clouds of dust into the air. Others contained buffalo or zebra. They paced to and fro, pawing the dirt and bellowing to register their distress. A single pen nearby had much taller sides than the others, and contained a pair of giraffes.