At first light it was discovered that the prisoners were gone. Kotsoteka, still recovering from his journey back to Warikeewa camp, shook his head in dismay as the news was broken to them that someone from within the camp had freed Talbrik and Saria from their shackles and helped them to escape into the night. Some of the men were examining the ground for clues as to the identity of the rescuer when Keewa, Publius Maximus and Makoma arrived on the scene.

'Meksumteh was here,' an Bronzeskin said.

'Meksumteh!'

'I take it he would not have been welcome in Warikeewa camp?' Publius Maximus asked.

'He was exiled some time ago. He works against us.'

'Why?'

'It is not important.'

'You are sure it was he?'

'His footprints are all around,' the Bronzeskin said who had made the announcement.

'We must follow them,' Makoma said.

'That would have been my first choice,' Publius Maximus said.

'There is another?'

'I am not sure about Talbrik. I believe the girl, Saria, will be safe enough with him. She has survived these many months without coming to too much harm. I am simply not convinced that Talbrik can lead us to Marcellus. From what your nephew has told us, I do not believe that Angry Wolf, as you call him, is in Ancyros any longer.'

'You believe him dead?'

'I did not say that.'

'What, then?'

'I believe he still lives, but I do not believe he is in Ancyros.'

'What will we do, then?'

'You must do whatever you think fit,' Publius Maximus said. 'I am travelling south to search for Marcellus.'

'I will accompany you.'

'It would be better that you did not. You hold to your own belief that Marcellus is still in Ancyros, and attack the problem from that base. I will take my people and travel south, for I have my own beliefs.'

And so it was that at first light, following a light meal, Publius Maximus, together with Arslan, Melisende, Yolande, Mirella and Hannei, took his leave of Warikeewa camp and started off south-east to search for Marcellus and Saria. For his part, Keewa gathered together his finest warriors and prepared them for their own quest, to penetrate the mountains that separated Pekeesh from Ancyros, for he was convinced that his dear friend and blood brother, Angry Wolf, was still in that province, in spite of the testimony given by Kotsoteka, his nephew. His daughter, Miki, had been singing to him in his dreams, of how they would meet again in the near future, and that all would be well. It had been a troublesome vision, for she had sung sweetly, too sweetly, and he did not trust her, believing instead that this person, though she bore a strong resemblance to his daughter, emanated instead from something evil. He did not tell his dreams to anyone, not even to his chosen woman, Wanikiwana, and often awoke sweating and shivering with the intensity of the vision. Nevertheless, he believed that he would find his daughter and Angry Wolf, and the boy they called Running Scared, whom he had never met, in Ancyros. He prepared accordingly.

The road out of Warikeewa camp was dry and hard from several days without rain. The thunderstorm that had forced Publius Maximus and his company off the road and into the caves had not penetrated this far east or south. They passed through a narrow strip of land that was a part of Ancyros and thence into Hethoum, which ran parallel to Ancyros for many hundreds of miles, and stretched almost from one coast to the other. Hethoum was in many ways like Barbessel, with great walled cities and cultivated fields tended by people from outlying villages. There were vast tracts of land not inhabited or cultivated, for the people had tended to congregate around the cities. But even away from the cities and the villages, there were small enclaves of people, hardy, dour people who welcomed strangers seldom, preferring to keep a neutrality between the mostly warring provinces of Heraklion.

In Hethoum, also, the landscape was vastly different to any other province of Publius Maximus' acquaintance, and he counted himself amongst the most travelled of men. The towering mountain ranges, amongst the highest on Heraklion had been split in two by volcanic and earthquake activity during the past few hundred years, rivers had carved a great valley over two miles deep and fifty miles across. Much of the land mass of Hethoum was inhospitable, dry, arid desert where it was impossible to cultivate or keep cattle or sheep, and the small population of the province had polarised around one of the three main cities in the fertile delta on the east coast or those grouped around the marshy plains to the south of Pekeesh and Barbessel.

The inhabitants of Hethoum tended to be generally tall and stocky, well-nourished and hardy because of the extremes of temperature that occurred in this equatorial land.

At the delta of Terkane, where the river Mallen flowing from Ancyros in the north, and the rivers Luren and Kestren flowing from Ascalonius in the south meet and discharge into the north-eastern ocean, stand the three principal cities of Hethoum, Ryatt, Merca and Kor-al-heb. Of these the latter is by far the largest, standing on the southern shore of the mighty Kestren river, itself the longest and widest river on Heraklion, reaching as it does to the opposite coast around Hadramaut.

Built on granite, its walls carved out of natural features, Kor-al-heb towers over the eastern sea, impenetrable, virtually featureless except for a thousand windows cut through the rocks, facing north, these windows belonging to the apartments of the rich and famous citizens of the city. On a clear day such citizens would be able to see across the delta to the twin cities of Ryatt and Merca, taller but not so densely populated, nor so impregnable as their sister. Ryatt and Merca were artificially constructed in that the rocks of their fabric were transported from quarries deep inside Hethoum, beyond the mountains in the desert at the border with Hor-Lak. These cities were the more mysterious because there was no known record of their building, nor of how such a small population could have engineered such a feat of transporting the many thousands of tonnes of rocks across the desert and through the mountains to the eastern coast. Several theories had been proposed, the most popular of which was that the cities had been built before the mountains had been thrown up from the desert floor by an almighty earthquake, and indeed there was evidence of an ancient pathway on the western side of the mountain range to support such a theory. However, there were citizens alive in Ryatt who claimed to have been told by not-too-distant ancestors of the time when the cities were built, and since no-one had any memory of an earthquake such as might have destroyed a path through the mountains, confusion remained as to their true origin.

Publius Maximus' wagons crossed the border into Hethoum at a little after midsun the following day. The General had little or no knowledge of the province, only what had been related to him by travellers and acquaintances who had crossed his path from time to time during his own travels. He began to remember stories of enormous animals unlike any elsewhere on the planet, large, lumbering animals, herbivorous and gentle, with long necks, frilled snouts and occasionally tusks. He remembered also that although the population of Hethoum was concentrated for the most part around the cities, there were village enclaves of farmers with both grazing animals and crops, and that they defended their property vigorously, and to the death, and should an enclave fall to an enemy, news of such troubles was swiftly conveyed to the part-time militia who lived locally and were ready to form a rapid reaction force should the need arise. On many occasions as he had heard it, invading parties from neighbouring provinces were quickly and mercilessly dealt with. Moreover, it was virtually unheard of for any trade to be done between Hethoum and its bordering provinces. He ran the real risk of being stopped and arrested, his goods, in this case his women and his wagon and hauling beasts impounded.

He decided therefore to prepare a sound reason for his entry into Hethoum, and hit upon the idea of masquerading as a performing group, mainly of dancing women, but also of singing and recitals. To this end he started to coach Arslan in the telling of stories, for his voice was not good and he was not given to dancing or keeping of rhythm at all, and the girls he warned to practice their dance routines lest they be called upon to perform. Hardest to convince was Melisende, who was indignant and stubborn to the end, protesting that she was a free woman, had never been enslaved by any man nor ever would be, and if he thought she was going to dance naked before a group of leering, lecherous men, he was altogether mistaken. Well into the afternoon she fought him tooth and nail until he finally dismissed her, saying that in the event that they were detained and called upon to perform, he would have to explain her away as a recalcitrant slave whom he had obtained only very recently and had not had time to train in her duties. He would, in fact, introduce her as a wild woman, and she could scream herself out of trouble, for he did not intend to take it all upon himself.

'When I was in Sharmak with Marcellus,' he told Arslan, 'we posed as a troupe of fighters. Marcellus fought my prize champion and defeated him, and subsequently took his place. If you were not such a rake, we might get away with that cover again, but how could I fight against you, who are all skin and bone?'

Arslan shrugged his shoulders. He was tall and thin, but in the time that he had been on the mainland, he had filled out considerably and now felt confident that he could hold his own against an enemy of reasonable proportions.

'I do not relish the idea of fighting with you,' he told Publius Maximus.

'The only alternative, as I see it, is for you to recite poetry whilst the girls dance and sing. You do not even play an instrument!'

'I never learned. There was never the time. One day I was old enough to become a hunter, with a bow and arrow, and a sword, the next day I encountered Marcellus. Life became exceptionally busy after that. There was never the time to be sitting around playing instruments.'

'You read, I presume?'

'I read! Of course I read!'

'I never see you with a manuscript.'

'Do you have manuscripts here, available?'

'Since you ask, yes.'

'Show me.'

'It is something I have been working on over the past few nights. Last night, whilst you all slept peacefully, leaving all of the planning and preparations for our safe passage through Hethoum to me, I wrote poems for you to recite should we find ourselves challenged.'

'Show me.'

'You are sure you can read?'

'I am sure,' Arslan said, grinning. Publius Maximus handed him a scrolled manuscript which he unrolled. His eyes travelled briefly over the first few lines of characters, and his grin widened.

'It is highly erotic, highly charged!' he breathed.

'It is a hobby of mine. Erotic thoughts. I commit them to manuscript whenever I need to think. Usually before a campaign.'

'I could not read this in public!'

'You would have to, my young friend, or else we would all be incarcerated, and all hope of ever finding Marcellus would evaporate.'

'I could not read this - out loud!'

'Try it now,' Publius Maximus said, his face devoid of any expression.

'Here? Now? Whilst we are travelling? The girls will hear me!'

'What better practice for you? There are plenty of free women in Hethoum.'

Arslan shook his head ruefully.

'I cannot,' he declared.

'Then we are doomed,' Publius Maximus said.

'Very well, I will try,' Arslan said. He held up the manuscript and cleared his throat.

''Her bosom is ripe, like the summer f'oi

  Her thighs invite me willingly

  To penetrate her

  Her kiss is cool, and soft, and wet,

  And here eyes speak her devotion to me.'

I do not understand the reference to 'summer f'oi'.'

'They are round, and firm, like the shape of a f'oi, but when you touch them, they are soft, and pliant, and supple,' Publius Maximus said.

'That sounds better. I will start again.

 'Her bosoms are round, and firm,

  like the shape of a f'oi,

  but when you touch them, they are soft,

  and pliant, and supple.' Yes, that sounds much better.'

Publius Maximus stared at him open-mouthed.

'You have just ruined a perfectly good poem,' he said, at length.

'Nonsense. The second version is highly charged, and emotive. Your first attempt was wooden, and devoid of feeling.'

'You are on dangerous ground, friend,' Publius Maximus warned him. 'Read the second stanza.'

Arslan again cleared his throat and held up the manuscript.

''Her eyes invite me to partake of her mouth,

  Her mouth invites me to partake of her breasts,

  Her breasts heave with the knowledge that......' Mo, this will not do at all, Publius Maximus!'

'Explain.'

'It is all too formal, and you are merely repeating what you have already said in the first stanza. Where is the story?' Arslan said. 'And I presume this 'narrative' pertains to a slave girl?'

'It might. It might just as well pertain to a free woman.'

'Let us suppose that you are describing a slave girl. Her eyes would not invite you to partake of her mouth. That is just nonsense. You would partake of her mouth if the mood takes you. Similarly her mouth would not invite you to partake of her breasts, they belong to you anyway, you partake of them when and where you like. As for her breasts heaving with knowledge......'

'Enough!' Publius Maximus roared good-humouredly, his eyes wet with laughter. 'If you feel that you can do better, there is a scribing tool, stay silent while I concentrate on my driving. When and if we are called upon to perform, I will recite my poetry and you will recite yours. Then we will see who has a feel for these things!'

Arslan grinned. He had never given any thought to expressing himself in literature, music or dance, but having read the General's attempts and barely saving himself from having hysterics, he decided that he might as well give it a try. But he lacked the confidence to commit his thoughts to parchment, and so, ignoring the offer of the scribing tool, he composed his poetry in his head, and having composed one stanza, recited it back to himself in silence, satisfied. In this way he began to compose what would ultimately become the best-loved epic poem throughout civilised Heraklion. They continued on in silence for a fair distance, the second wagon, carrying the girls, including a most indignant Melisende, attached to the first by means of two stout ropes the thickness of Publius Maximus' wrists.

Gradually they began to climb, and as they did so, into the approaching dusk, mist rose from the grasses and after a time they could no longer see where they were going. Above the mists they watched the golden-red clouds fall to pieces, dispersing into immense rose-coloured disintegration towards the darkness. Gold gave way to crimson, like blood running from an open wound in its intensity. Then the crimson paled into rose, and rose to blue, and at last as they headed north towards the twin cities of Ryatt and Merca, the passion left the sky and all the world was inky blackness.

They were travelling between the starkly sloped walls of a valley, that much they could make out, and the valley floor, steeped either side with shrubbed and treed slopes, was narrowing. Publius Maximus thought he could see a faint light up ahead, but as quickly as he spotted it, it was gone in the swirling mist.

Behind them, in the second wagon, seething with fury at being kept with the slave girls, Melisende set her mind to work on the problem of having her revenge on the fat man who called himself the General Publius Maximus. She had disliked him from the moment they had been ushered into his presence in the garrison at Horta, and his latest treatment of her, insisting that she be as one of his slaves, had confirmed her in her resentment at his refusal to acknowledge her free status. That her brother travelled willingly with him in the front wagon, and had left her to her own devices amongst the other girls did little to assuage her feelings. She searched for and found her hunting knife, which she had kept concealed all this time within her boot. She looked around her. All of the girls with the exception of Hannei were asleep or dozing. Hannei herself was watching their rear, aware that an attack or a challenge to their presence within the province of Hethoum could come from any direction. Silently and carefully she began to cut through one of the ropes that attached their wagon to the first, taking care to leave it still secure enough so that it did not snap and send the lead wagon to one side. Then she repeated this action with the other rope, and satisfying herself that Hannei was still occupied with watching out of the rear of the wagon, quickly and deftly severed the last strands of each rope. At once, as the girls were startled awake, the wagon rolled backwards, gathering speed. Yolande, seeing what was happening, opened her mouth to scream, but Melisende was in time to clamp her hand over her mouth. At the same time, Hannei toppled backwards over the back of the wagon and into the road, beneath the rapidly reversing wheels. Her screams were lost in the blackness of descending night as the lead wagon carried on up the hill.

Unknown to any of them, the valley floor to their immediate left was shrouded in darkness and in fact plunged deeper down into a ravine some one hundred feet below. The wagon rolled a few feet backwards, gathering speed all the while, until it went over the edge and into the ravine taking all of the girls with it, with the exception of Hannei, who lay unconscious at the side of the track. The lead wagon, barely feeling any the lighter because of the now steep incline, carried on, its occupants oblivious to what had just happened. It was not until they reached the next village that they finally became aware that all was not well. It was Arslan who jumped down into the road intending to go to the girls and inform them that they had decided to try their fortune at the tavern that stood a few yards away. He marched to the rear of the wagon and stopped, his mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief. Publius Maximus had already started off towards the door of the tavern, expecting Arslan to follow him directly. When he did not, he turned back, and it was some moments before he realised that where there should have been a trailing wagon, there was nothing.

'Arslan, what has happened?'

'It is gone!'

'Where? When? How far? How long ago?'

'If I knew, do you think I would not have told you?' Arslan cried.

'We must go back for them. They could be anywhere. Do you think it could have been when we were climbing into the foothills? Did you hear anything?'

'I was reading your poetry, then composing my own. I heard nothing.'

'Ordinarily, do you hear the girls while we sit up front chattering to each other? Do you normally hear them?'

'I cannot recall ever hearing them,' Arslan replied. 'Publius Maximus, my sister!'

'I know, I know. We must go back and find them.'

'In the dark?'

'Of course. Now. We have to go now.'

'Of course. Melisende!'

'Do not shout.'

'They could be just a few yards back along the track.....'

'I am fully aware that they could be just a few yards back along the track,' Publius Maximus said with heavy sarcasm. 'We do not wish to alert the authorities. We will walk slowly back the way we came, leaving the wagon and the deichen here. If they are just a few yards back along the track, we will surely find them without shouting. As soon as we are out of range of the village, you may shout.'

'You must shout too.'

'I will also shout. Come along. We must find them. It is already growing cold. If they are not in the wagon, they will all freeze to death.'

He started to walk along the track made by the wheels of their wagon. Arslan hurried to catch him up.

'What do you mean, if they are not in the wagon?'

'Just that. There are furs and clothing in the wagon. Ordinarily, when we pull up at a tavern, they would expect to remain in the wagon overnight. They would be adequately warm.'

'But you do not expect them to be in the wagon.'

'I did not say that.'

'Publius Maximus, you are not making any sense. Why did you say that they might not be in the wagon? Where else would they be?'

'I was trying to imagine a worst-case scenario,' the fat man replied.            'Worst case?'

'Imagine how the second wagon must have become detached from our own. Can you envisage any likely circumstances?'           

'No, I cannot.'

'Then I will give you my conjecture. There were two ropes attaching the second wagon to ours. The ropes are thick, and well-made. They are the same thickness as those which are used on the harness for the deichen. Do I make myself clear?'

Arslan shook his head vigorously.

'I will spell it out for you, my young friend. The ropes were secure, and they were sound. When you are a wagon-master, you check these things regularly. I checked the ropes, and their fastenings this morning, at first light. You have my word that the knots were secure and there was no sign of any wear in their fabric. That means that for the second wagon to have become detached from the lead wagon, the ropes must either have been untied, or cut.'

'Were they untied, do you think?'

'The untying of a Herakian knot, a knot which has been tied by an Herakian man, is not something a girl could untie. The ropes were cut. That can mean one of two possibilities.'

'And they are?'

'That someone in the wagon cut the ropes.'

'That is only one possibility.'

Publius Maximus shook his head emphatically.

'No, it is two. Either the ropes were cut by a man hiding in the wagon. Or else they were cut by one of the girls. I rule out the first possibility immediately. I do not give it a second thought. I also checked the wagon itself at first light this morning. There were no men hiding in the wagon, and there has been no opportunity for any to hide in there since.'

'You arrive then at the conclusion that the ropes were cut by one of the girls.'

'It is the most likely explanation. When you have ruled out all of the other possibilities, whatever you are left with, no matter how unlikely it may seem, must be the solution. The ropes were cut by a girl. One of the girls. Know you of such a girl who might have had, in her possession, a knife?'

'Melisende!' Arslan breathed.

'She had a knife!' Publius Maximus almost screamed the words at him.

'She carried it in her boot. It is her only protection. Especially as you had ordered her to pose as a slave girl,' he added meaningfully.

'In her boot!' Publius Maximus breathed. 'I should have guessed it. She has spirit, your sister.'

'Where can they be, Publius Maximus?' Arslan said anxiously.

'It is very dark, Arslan. We need a torch of some sort.'

'There will be moonlight to assist us shortly.'

Publius Maximus gazed up at the night sky, and saw that the clouds were slowly thinning. Moonlight was filtering through. He walked on, with Arslan to his left, examining the ground for signs of where the two wagons had parted company. At last they reached the point where there were two sets of tracks, the second set veering off at an angle, back along the trail. They followed this track for a few yards, and at last found the ravine, the sheer drop, taking the valley floor with it to a new low. They stared at each other in stunned silence for a few moments, then Arslan lowered himself to his stomach and peered over the edge.

'It is hundreds of feet down, Publius Maximus.'

'I do not see how anyone could have survived such a drop, Arslan.'

'Nor I.'

'Can you see any sign of the wagon? Or anything moving?'

'No.'

'It is as I feared.' The General turned and began to walk away from the edge.

'Where are you going?' Arslan called after him.

'Back to the village.'

'I am going down there, to find them.'

'You are mad, my friend. It is dark, and slippery. You can see how steep it is. Nothing could have survived such a fall.'

'I agree that the odds on finding anyone alive are very slight,' Arslan said. 'Nevertheless, my sister is down there somewhere. I must find her.  I must satisfy myself that she is indeed gone.'

Publius Maximus nodded.

'Very well. But at least wait until morning. I will return with you and together we will descend into the ravine and see what we can find.'

'No, it has to be done now.'

'Why?'

'In the morning we may both be dead. We do not know what awaits us at the village. They will have been alerted to our arrival by the fact that our wagon stands outside the tavern. They may be calling out their militia even now to come looking for us.'

'You are probably right, Arslan. But to go down there now, in the blackness of night is nothing short of suicidal. Wait till morning, and I will accompany you.'

'No. I do not blame you for not wanting to come with me, and besides, it is not your sister who is down there. I do not expect your assistance in this, and bear you no ill-will. You were not obliged to take us with you out of Horta. Go your way, do what you think fit. I will one day catch up with you. And Marcellus.'

Publius Maximus considered briefly. Abruptly, he returned to the cliff edge where the wagon tracks disappeared.

'I will come with you. Can you see anything?'

'You do not need to come with me, Publius Maximus. You owe me nothing.'

'Two of my favourite girls are down there. Did you think I would leave them without ascertaining their fate? Can you see anything down there?'

'Little enough. There are shrubs at the top. They seem secure enough. I will lower myself down.'

Arslan turned on his stomach and swung his feet out over the edge, grasping the roots of the shrubs immediately below him to test their strength. Satisfied that they would bear his weight, he lowered himself gently and slowly, feeling with his feet for footholds and with his hands for more shrubs or cracks in the rock face. He disappeared from sight as the moon light was once again obscured by dark thunderclouds.

'Still there, Arslan?'

'Still here. You do not have to accompany me, Publius Maximus.'

'I will take my chances,' Publius Maximus called back. He stooped, ready to lower himself to the ground, when he felt cold steel pressed hard against his neck.

'Do not move,' a voice said.

'Publius Maximus,' Arslan called. 'There are plenty of footholds.'

'Tell him you are about to follow him. Do not turn round.'

'I am following you now, carry on. I am getting my breath.'

'Be careful,' Arslan called, his voice now quite distant.

'Stand up, Publius Maximus,' the voice said, and Publius Maximus did as he was bid.

'You have me at a disadvantage,' he said.                             

'Who else could you be? You carry yourself like a  General. You are tall, and fat, and from the look of you, you are immensely strong.'

'You are Warikeewa, perhaps?'

'Perhaps. Walk up the road, back towards the village. Slowly. Your friend will not miss you. He will believe that you are following him. He will never see you again.'

'That can mean one of two things,' Publius Maximus said. 'Either you intend killing me, or else you know what is in the ravine, and know therefore for a fact that my companion will not survive.'

'True. Now walk. Either way, it does not concern you.'

'You are not from the village.'

'I am temporarily based there.'

'Tell me your name. I would know who has captured me.'

'Meksumteh.'

'The one who freed Talbrik!' Publius Maximus breathed.

'You laid an open trail for me to find you. Your wagon was not concealed. I knew you would not be far away.'

Publius Maximus nodded.

'I should have known.'

'How could you have known? I am Warikeewa.'

'You were Warikeewa,' Publius Maximus corrected him. 'You are no longer welcome in your own country. You work for the enemy.'

'Vitellius will rule Heraklion.'

'At what price?'

'Just keep walking, fat man.'

'My companion.....'

'Forget him.'

'He is from across the ocean. He does not know the customs of this province.'

'More the fool for following you.'

'We are searching for Marcellus of Barbessel. They are old friends.'

'I know that well enough. Many people seek the whereabouts of the traitor Marcellus of Barbessel. Phocas sent me to look for him.'

'Phocas? Where have I heard that name before?'

'You do not know him. He is from Mekhitar, on the western land.'

'I have heard the name, though.'

'Just keep walking.'

'Back to the village?'

'The assassin and the girl await us there. We saw you arrive. We thought it would be good to have you as our prisoner.'

'What good will it do you to keep me a prisoner?'