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Chapters (76)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. I
  4. II
  5. III
  6. I - INVADER AD 43-70
  7. I
  8. II
  9. III
  10. IV
  11. V
  12. VI
  13. VII
  14. VIII
  15. IX
  16. X
  17. XI
  18. XII
  19. XIII
  20. XIV
  21. XV
  22. XVI
  23. XVII
  24. XVIII
  25. XIX
  26. XX
  27. XXI
  28. XXII
  29. XXIII
  30. XXIV
  31. XXV
  32. XXVI
  33. II - BUILDER AD 122-138
  34. I
  35. II
  36. III
  37. IV
  38. V
  39. VI
  40. VII
  41. VIII
  42. IX
  43. X
  44. XI
  45. XII
  46. XIII
  47. XIV
  48. XV
  49. XVI
  50. XVII
  51. XVIII
  52. XIX
  53. XX
  54. XXI
  55. III - EMPEROR AD 314—337
  56. I
  57. II
  58. III
  59. IV
  60. V
  61. VI
  62. VII
  63. VIII
  64. IX
  65. X
  66. XI
  67. XII
  68. XIII
  69. XIV
  70. XV
  71. EPILOGUE
  72. I
  73. II
  74. III
  75. IV
  76. Afterword

He laid his fist over the chain mail covering his chest. ‘The parchment is brief,’ he said. ‘Just a few lines. You can’t expect it to list every little thing that will ever happen.’

‘This isn’t some “little thing”, cousin!’

Nectovelin glared at her. ‘No bit of parchment is going to help us here. Only iron and blood will shape our future now. Drop it, Agrippina.’

They were interrupted by cries of anger, coming from far off to the rear of the roughly assembled mass of Britons. Caratacus, his boots still wet, went running towards the commotion with a group of his allies, their swords already drawn.

Braint hopped onto a storm-smashed tree stump to see better. ‘It’s the chariots,’ she called. ‘Somebody’s having a go at the horses.’

Nectovelin yelled, ‘The Batavians!’

Agrippina asked, ‘Who?’

He drew his sword. “Pina, find somewhere safe, and stay there. Braint - come on, you old boot, we’ve a few Roman skulls to crack before supper.’ And he ran off, pushing through the jostling crowd of old women, children, goats and sheep.

‘So it begins,’ Cunedda said. With a last helpless glance back at Agrippina he followed Nectovelin.

XIII

XIII

Vespasian found his brother in the dark. The two of them met on horseback in a pocket of forest, close enough to the river for them to hear its murmur. They were alone save for their immediate staff officers, and a few burly legionaries as guards.

And, all around them in the blackness, more than ten thousand men were crossing the water.

‘It’s good fortune it’s so dark,’ Sabinus whispered to his brother.

‘Yes.’ So it was, though it was no accident that the night was moonless; the campaign’s planning had taken the lunar phases into account. ‘But I’m getting the feeling that even had we attempted the crossing in broad daylight the Britons might still not have spotted us.’

‘It’s hard to credit, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you post at least a few spies? It’s not as if we’ve tried to conceal ourselves.’

Vespasian shrugged, his armour rustling as its banded plates scraped. ‘I have a feeling these barbarians think it dishonourable to sneak around in the dark.’

‘And it is more honourable to waste your life needlessly? Well, by this time tomorrow many of them will be able to debate the point with their gods. Come. Let’s see how the crossing is going.’

They turned their horses’ heads. A staff officer on foot led Vespasian’s horse down the track cut out by the scouts earlier, and Sabinus’s followed.