‘Ah yes.’ Balbus vaguely recalled the name. ‘So, what are you doing out on the road?’

‘We reached Picenum yesterday, sir. Place was like a ghost town. Most of the people had gone to a nearby shrine for some local festival. I thought we would ride out and meet you, and your boys there.’ He gestured towards the German auxiliaries.

‘They’re not mine,’ Balbus growled.

‘Anyway, we saw you approaching the town, sir, and, well, here we are. Ready to escort the wagons back to Rome.’

Balbus regarded the centurion silently for a moment. He liked soldiers who stuck to the letter of their orders and was not sure that he approved of Sinius and his men meeting them here on the road instead of in the town, as arranged. Clear plans for the delivery of the silver had been made in Rome some two months earlier and all concerned should obey their instructions. The moment officers began to play free and easy with their orders, plans began to fall apart. He resolved to have a word with Sinius’s commanding officer when they returned to the Praetorian camp just outside the walls of Rome.

‘Centurion Arminius!’ Balbus called over his shoulder. ‘On me!’

The officer in charge of the German auxiliaries hurried forward. He was a tall, broad-shouldered individual whose scale armour just about fitted his muscular torso. He looked up at the tribune, his beard almost flame-red in the sunshine.

‘Sir?’

Balbus nodded to the horsemen. ‘The escort from Rome. They’ll protect the wagons from here. You and your men can turn back towards Narbonensis at once.’

The German pursed his lips and replied in heavily accented Latin. ‘We were supposed to make the handover in Picenum, sir. The lads were hoping to enjoy themselves in the town for the night before we headed back.’

‘Yes, well, that’s not necessary now. Besides, I doubt the locals will take kindly to being invaded by a small horde of Germans. I know what your men are like when they get some drink inside ’em.’

Centurion Arminius frowned. ‘I’ll see to it that they don’t cause any trouble, sir.’

‘Nor will they. I’m ordering you to turn round and march back to Gaul at once, d’you hear?’

The other man nodded slowly, his bitterness quite clear. Then, with a curt nod to his superior he turned and strode back to the convoy. ‘Take up your packs! Make ready to march! It’s back to Gaul for us, boys.’

Some of his men groaned and one swore a loud oath in his native tongue, drawing a sharp rebuke from the centurion.

Balbus glanced at Sinius and spoke softly. ‘Can’t have a bunch of hairy-arsed barbarians imposing themselves on decent folk.’