‘None more than Hadrian,’ she said. ‘But it’s not surprising. He is a soldier who has to come to terms with the prospect of becoming a god after he dies - indeed in Egypt they worship him already. How would that feel, Brigonius? Can you even imagine it? Wouldn’t you be fascinated by past and future, if you felt you might some day transcend time itself?’

This kind of philosophising baffled Brigonius at the best of times; now the words flew around in his head. ‘Superstitious or not, he’s still a soldier. And you can see he still has the touch with his men.’ He spotted Prefect Tullio sitting close to Governor Nepos. Tullio was silent, his face like thunder. ‘But there’s one soldier whose life doesn’t seem to have been improved by the Emperor’s visit.’

‘Oh, things have gone slightly awry for our friend the prefect,’ Severa said with silky satisfaction. ‘He’s still in his post. But he’s lost a few of his privileges. His wife and kids have been kicked out of the fortress for a start.’

‘Why?’

She inspected her fingers, long, perfectly manicured. ‘Because of this solution you cooked up between you and your drinking pals. A Wall that is half stone, half turf.’

Brigonius knew how unhappy she had been with the deal, not least because it violated the terms of her Prophecy. ‘Not quite half—’

‘Shut up,’ she said without emotion. ‘I had no choice but to accept it. But it took me some effort to sell it to the Emperor - or, more specifically, the freedman Primigenius. I had to promise some favours.’

He asked uneasily, ‘What favours?’

‘And even then I found it necessary to shift some of the responsibility. I’m happy to say that it is our oafish Germanic friend Tullio who is taking the blame for fouling up the estimates for the Wall, not me, not Xander.’

Brigonius, his head full of beer fumes and smoke, felt as if he was about to pass out. ‘That’s unfair on Tullio. He’s only trying to do his duty. And you have made an unnecessary enemy. That’s a bad habit, Severa.’

‘Of course it is unfair, which makes it all the sweeter. That’ll teach him to call me “love”.’

Something in her tone alarmed Brigonius, but he seemed unable to sit up. ‘These favours you promised—’

Her face loomed before his eyes. ‘You aren’t completely incapable yet, are you, little Briton? The poison I’ve had dropped in your ale will soon grip you completely, though.’

‘Poison?’