Crispinus knew the truth of this. Arrian had ridden close to the gateway soon after dawn, making the same request and getting the same answer. The Nicopolitans were not about to admit them, at least not yet, so they had become the enemy. As Caecilius said, this was now a question of matching wits and wills against each other. Hadrian had made it clear. One way or another, the city must be in Roman hands and there was not that much time. Two months was all he could promise Crispinus, for after that Hadrian might be replaced and at the very least the news of any siege would reach Trajan and give him time to respond. Hadrian was preparing a despatch justifying his actions, but could not be sure how the princeps would react.

All of that meant that every single day, almost every hour, was precious, for as Caecilius’ said, the city was a bitch of place to take, with strong walls and defenders who appeared numerous and determined. There were more men outside the walls than Crispinus had expected. Still, they had seen so many abandoned or half-empty farms and villages on their march that it was obvious plenty of people had fled into Nicopolis. That meant more mouths for the defenders to feed as well as more hands to hold a spear or hurl a rock. Like everything else, it cut both ways. This morning Crispinus could have attacked to drive the enemy back behind their walls. It needed to be done, because until it was, the Romans would not be able to build any siege works, and the ramps he would need could not be constructed quickly. A mere glance at the high walls had confirmed his guess that there was not the slightest prospect of taking the place by an immediate attack with ladders, so the business would have to be done properly, which meant slowly. Caecilius would advise – it would be hard to stop the man even if he tried – as would others, but it all came down to Crispinus to make the decisions and spend his limited time well.

Today, he had decided that he wanted to make the Nicopolitans realise that he was serious and that their best way out was to talk. To this end, Cerialis and the bulk of his ala, along with the remaining four cohorts of Hispana and two cohorts of auxiliaries, were marching in a big loop around the south of the city. A few small bands of horsemen watched them, but none of the men formed outside the walls moved away from the western gate and there were none waiting outside the city on the far side.

Caecilius whistled through his teeth. ‘A bitch and no mistake.’ He was staring at the ground as it rose, turning into bluffs that doubled the height of the walls. There was a ditch at their foot, albeit far shallower than everywhere else. ‘That’s the citadel then.’

The Roman column continued, screened by cavalry, not that there was much of a threat at present. Crispinus wanted a second camp on this eastern side of Nicopolis.