Lepidina said, ‘I have an aunt who told me that Agrippina, my great-grandmother, told such stories to her daughters—’

Severa cut her off. ‘It’s all barbarian nonsense. Everybody knows that Britain was colonised by refugees from Troy. That’s why Caesar came up against Trojan chariots here. And that is what we are: Trojans, good Mediterranean stock, a few generations removed. I won’t discuss it any further.’

The party at last neared Eburacum. The legionary fortress stood on a hilltop on the north bank of a river, its walls square and uncompromising, and a shanty town of traders, soldiers’ families and other hangers-on sprawled outside the fort wall and south of the river. Eburacum was one of six military power centres in the province, including the other two legionary fortresses and the three coloniae, including Camulodunum. As if to reinforce the permanence of the imperial stranglehold on Brigantia, in the last decade the fortifications of Eburacum had been rebuilt in heavy stone.

They reached a gate in the fortress wall. Here a unit of soldiers under the command of a decurion stopped them and had them dismount so their luggage could be searched.

As they waited at the gate Brigonius at last managed to shepherd Lepidina away from the others. After his hour together with her at Camulodunum, and that lightning-strike of passion, he had barely been able to spend any time alone with the girl.

‘You’ve been quiet for days,’ he said.

She pulled a face. ‘Are you surprised? This is an awful country, Brigonius.’

‘It’s just different from what you’re used to, that’s all. And your ancestors came from Brigantia, remember.’ He took her hand; it was warm and soft. ‘Lepidina—that hour in Camulodunum, what happened—’

She blurted, ‘You’re thinking about the future, aren’t you? Our future, a future for us together.’

He hesitated, reluctant to ask the next question. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘Yes. Yes, I suppose so,’ she said.

He breathed out.

‘But standing before all this legionary stone - it seems so unreal, Brigonius. We are so different, our worlds are as far apart as sun and moon. Could you live in a town, even a mudhole like Camulodunum? Or could I live in one of those funny round wooden houses? I want to be with you. I think I want it. But how could it possibly be?’

‘Then what must we do?’

‘Let’s give it time, Brigonius. A mere wall takes three years to build. A love takes a lifetime.’

He smiled. ‘You do have depths, Lepidina.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘You patronising toad.’

‘I wonder if your mother’s Prophecy would be any help.’