Hadrian wondered whether Quietus dreamed of such elevation. The empire could certainly do worse, for the one-time Numidian prince was clever, a brilliant soldier and leader, a decent enough man in his way, and charm could be a great asset to any leader.

‘Oh, nearly time for me to go,’ Quietus said, as if realising for the first moment that Praesens had started his run. The new legatus managed only a single throw, which chipped the side of the post, and he tapped the target with the shaft of his second spear as he passed it. There was polite cheering and some smiles at the gesture. At least he had not made a fool of himself.

‘See you in a little while.’ Quietus was half turned, smiling at them, when his horse went from stationary into a fast canter. Hadrian did not see any sign of movement of heels or legs, and only now realised that the reins were loosely looped over the horn of his saddle. It was as if the animal simply knew what its rider wanted and acted without being told – and this was a horse he had mounted for the first time just a little while ago. The beast shot off, faster than Trajan had gone, let alone Praesens, and yet somehow Quietus gave the impression of sauntering along. His first lancea struck low and fast on the target, the second right at the top when he was still fifteen paces short. He simply seemed to have more time than was natural. A little beyond the target was a line of hexagonal shields, each propped up by a spear rammed into the ground. Without the slightest check Quietus went for them and his horse jumped easily over. Trajan led the soldiers in their cheering.

Quietus certainly had style. He would have been an easy man for Hadrian to like, if he had not been an enemy. There was talking behind Hadrian as he waited for the shouting to die down, but he was sweating under the weight of his high-crested helmet and trying to focus solely on the task in hand.

‘I am so sorry.’ Arbandes had walked his horse alongside. Another older man was a little behind him. ‘They say that I should not. I am sorry.’ The lad appeared quite distressed, but the cheering had died away and there was no more time.

‘Do not worry, and do not apologise,’ Hadrian told the boy, echoing Quietus, and tried to give a smile just as encouraging. He clicked at his horse and gave slight pressure with his legs and the beast lurched into a trot which then became a canter. It was not the finest start, but not a disgrace, and he kept pressure on the reins to stop the animal going any faster. The post seemed very close, but he made himself wait, lancea ready to throw. The key, just like riding itself, was to make it all feel natural. He threw, angling the light spear high to allow for its drop, and reached back for the second. There was approving noise from the watching soldiers, so the first must have hit, and now the other was ready. He was close, very close, as he drew back the spear and flung it forward, and then he passed the target and a cheer told him that he had struck true. The row of shields was a little to the left and he stared at it, gave a gentle tug on the bit, and shifted his body to let the mare know where they were heading. She responded, and he felt her strength gather because they were at the jump already and he knew that she would obey so did not urge her on in case he made her nervous. Then the mare stopped.