‘Who are you? Show yourself!’ Arrian raised his sword, its blade glinting in the moonlight.

The dark shadows by the old walls moved and suddenly the tall figure of a man loomed up just a few paces away. His hood fell back and he grinned at them. ‘What are you planning on doing with that, my lord tribune? If you really want to go down and fight a dozen of them, then that’s up to you. But best hurry before they are gone. And if you want to fight me, I wouldn’t bother. You’d no longer be breathing if that is what I wanted.’

‘Oh.’ For once Arrian appeared lost for words. He stared at his gladius, as if seeing it for the first time, then lowered it rather sheepishly. ‘That would not seem wise, I suppose.’

‘You are a Roman?’ Rufus said.

‘So they tell me,’ the man said. ‘Some call me other things. My name is Flavius Ferox. Pilus prior in Legio II Augusta, but more than a little detached these many years.’

As far as Rufus knew the legion was stationed in Britannia, and he wondered if that explained the man’s accent. Perhaps his family were Britons given citizenship.

‘Why are you here?’ Arrian asked, marshalling himself at last.

Ferox gave a grim laugh. ‘Why indeed, but that is a story for another time. Did I hear you speak of Crispinus as your legate?’ It took Rufus a moment to realise that the strange centurion was speaking in Greek. ‘Would that be Atilius Crispinus? Short man, white hair, talks all the time?’

‘Yes,’ Rufus said before Arrian had a chance to speak. ‘He commands the Hispana. This is narrow stripe tribune Flavius Arrian, and I am Cornelius Rufus, hastatus posterior of cohors V. Do you know the legatus?’

The response was another bitter laugh.

Arrian coughed. ‘The noble Crispinus is with his escort in the valley on the far side of this hill. I think it would be best if we all reported to him.’

Ferox sighed. ‘Aye. The night can’t get any worse, so we may as well. I will meet you there.’

‘Better you stay with us,’ Arrian said, and while he did not threaten, his stance changed so that he was holding his sword with purpose. ‘Just to be on the safe side.’

‘I’ll be safe enough,’ Ferox told him. ‘I need my horse, and I am under orders – and not yours, my lord Arrian. So I will join you soon.’

Arrian thought for a long moment, and then let the gladius hang down limply again.

‘We have a simple camp near some boulders and a withered tree,’ Rufus said, doing his best to be helpful.

‘I know. Knew you were Romans, but was not sure beyond that, until I heard you two talking.’

‘Is that why you spoke to us?’ Arrian sounded suspicious. ‘Because you know the legatus or because we are officers.’

‘Perhaps.’ Ferox turned and walked off into the darkness. Rufus was not sure whether he felt safer with the man gone or when he was beside them.