The guard cast a longing look towards the fire. ‘My orders were to keep you here until I heard otherwise ... But I don’t suppose it can do any harm. Come on. But don’t try anything. I’ll be watching you, lad.’

‘Try anything?’ Lupus chuckled bitterly. ‘And where would I run? There’s only one way out of the valley, and that’s heavily guarded.’

The guard stared at him. ‘All the same. No funny stuff. All right?’

Lupus nodded, and the man gestured towards the fire with his spear. They crossed the compound and joined the other guards. One of them produced a wineskin and passed it round. The man responsible for Lupus took a swallow, then lowered the wineskin with a satisfied sigh.

‘Ah! That warms the heart. Here, boy. Have some.’

He held the flask out to Lupus. For a moment the boy hesitated, then he reached out and took the wineskin with a nod of thanks. Taking out the stopper, he sniffed the contents and could not help wrinkling his nose at the sharp, acidic odour. The men chuckled at his reaction and Lupus forced himself to control his expression. Steeling himself, he put the nozzle in his mouth and raised the skin up as he tilted his head back. For a moment there was nothing and then a jet of the wine sloshed into his mouth, sharp and burning on his tongue. He lowered the wineskin and spluttered, to the accompaniment of laughter from the guards round the fire.

‘Rough stuff, eh?’ said the guard. ‘Even for those of us who aren’t used to the wines of the richest households in Rome.’ lie gestured towards Lupus’s plain but well-made cloak. ‘It’s Mir you ain’t ever had to work in the fields. You’re a house slave. No doubt raised on the fine scraps from the master’s table. Never done a real day’s work in your life, I suppose?’

Lupus flushed angrily but dared not reply.

‘Thought so.’ The guard nodded. ‘Well, now you’re no better than the rest of us. We’re all the same here, lad. And you’ll fight alongside the rest of us when the time comes.’

Lupus swallowed anxiously. ‘If I refuse?’

‘Best not to.’ The guard drew a finger across his throat. ‘You’re either with us, or you’re one of the enemy. So which is it?’

Lupus felt a shaft of terror pierce his heart. He saw the other men looking at him closely, many with scarred faces, weathered by years of toil or fighting.

‘Well?’ The man spoke again. ‘Are you with us?’

Lupus hesitated, and was about to reply when a figure emerged from the darkness and joined those by the fire.

‘What’s this? Are you lot teasing our new recruit?’ Mandracus chuckled as he stood beside Lupus and smiled at him. ‘Ignore ‘em, lad. They just like their bit of fun.’