Another roar.

“Dismissed!”

I contemplated going back down the mountain for Sabina—she’d be chafing to see something new after the monotony of the camp—but decided against it. Even with Trajan’s admonitions, and his centuries sweeping for mutinous Dacian soldiers, there would be violence tonight in Old Sarm. Women would be raped, sacks of loot would be gathered and fought over, slaves would be taken, and for every Roman found dead in the street with a knife in his gut, there would be ten murdered Dacians. Better keep Sabina out of that—it might be too interesting even for her.

Parts of Old Sarm had burned flat, but not all the fires laid by the frantic Dacian rebels had had time to catch hold. I left the looting to the others and wandered until I found a tavern still standing, on a street of buildings only slightly scorched. I dragged Philip with me, fleeced him at a game of dice, got fleeced back, and walked out with half my purse and a considerably clearer head than he. The streets were dark now, strange and winding instead of Rome’s angled lines, and I knew there were eyes watching my red cloak and crested helmet. I didn’t fancy a street fight on a swimming head, so I’d drunk sparingly at the tavern and felt half-disgusted with myself. Was this the start of turning into a cautious old man like the centurions, forever weighing the consequences of everything? My friends jeered at me, all roaring drunk themselves, but I still stopped at half a cup of strong Dacian ale and left the tavern early, thinking I’d get back to the camp for a night’s sleep if we were marching in the morning. Being cautious again—even worse, being responsible. But though I might not admit it to anyone else, I knew I’d far rather spend the night sleeping next to my girl than getting drunk in a tavern. At least in the morning I could look forward to making merciless fun of my moaning, puking brothers-in-arms.

I crossed a narrow square in the general direction of the city gates. A clutch of legionaries bumped past me, whooping—the change of guard from the temple grounds where Trajan had sited the Tenth’s eagle. I caught a glow of something pale in the temple grounds, hesitated, then turned my course back toward the Dacian temples again. Sabina liked new gods, even the strange savage kind with horns and claws that Dacians worshipped—if I could tell her all about something new and interesting, she’d be more delighted than she’d ever be with a diamond necklace. My strange girl.