*

Waiting was the key. The Silures trained boys to lie still and quiet, watching and waiting, letting the time flow past them. Ferox often wondered why other peoples did not do the same, but in all his travels he had not met a tribe who did. Yet the skills could be learned even if it took a long time. Bran was coming on, and the lad had been so keen that he had not had the heart to refuse his offer to help. By the time he slipped away, Ferox was already lying flat behind a flat stone, and he only spotted movement once or twice before the youngster found a spot of his own on the far side of the camp.

If it was going to happen, it would happen soon. The night was half spent and he could afford only one more hour before they would need to leave, with Indike and Bran riding double in an effort to get back to the track and some company soon after dawn. If the enemy was really smart then they might wait for daylight, especially if they realised that the waggon was broken.

Ferox had his chin resting on his folded arms. He wore no armour, and had his pugio, the short army-issue dagger, under his arms and his gladius lying beside him, the blade covered in a fold of his hooded cloak because the stars were bright. He was some hundred and fifty paces out from the camp, which was the distance he judged someone might risk a shot. Vindex was a dark shape against the dying fire, hunched as if half asleep and propping himself up with his spear. It was a risky job, but his old friend did it well and had done it so many times that he was used to the risk. Try as he might, Vindex made too much noise blundering around in the darkness to help in any other way.

Another hour passed before Ferox heard a movement. It was soft, and could easily have been an animal wandering about its business, until he heard a breath and knew that the sound came from a horse. This was not a country of wild horses, and their own animals were too far away and not stirring. Then he heard the gentlest of scraping sounds, again and again, coming on steadily. A man was crawling, close by and behind him.

Ferox waited, not moving, but not letting himself become tense. One horse, probably with a rider from the way the sound was swiftly muffled, was close by and another man was crawling on his belly. That one was even closer now, and Ferox caught his breathing; crawling was harder work than anyone realised until they tried it. When younger he might have felt the urge to look around, although he hoped that even then he would have resisted. Only an infant would make such a mistake. Instead he lay still, and simply hoped that the man would not crawl right onto him. Otherwise, unless he was really good, he probably would not notice Ferox at all.