Bran appeared on the crest of the low rise ahead of them.

‘Halt!’ This time Cerialis gave the order.

Bran galloped towards them, stopping his horse with a skid of dust alongside the officers. He, like the Brigantes, was eager to show off his horsemanship in front of the regular auxiliaries, especially once they discovered that there were men from the southern tribes among them.

‘The city’s still there, chief,’ he told Ferox. His Latin was good these days, but sticking to the language of the tribes was another way of showing their difference. ‘Just where we left it.’

‘We will see Nicopolis once we reach the brow,’ Ferox told the others. ‘Barely a mile away.’

‘Gates open or closed?’ Cerialis asked Bran. He had picked up a fair bit of the language during his years at Vindolanda and was finding it useful in his new command.

‘Shut, lord.’

‘Well, any city would have its gates closed at night,’ Cerialis said in Latin, but there was doubt in his words. ‘We may as well make a show of it. Decurions to me!’

The prefect was determined to make a dramatic appearance. His men dismounted, checked girths, drew their shields out from their covers, and once mounted again formed up five turmae abreast, with four lines of men. The Brigantes sauntered in while this was going on, and Ferox had them make up their own line on the left flank.

‘Try to look honest and respectable,’ he told them. They all turned to stare at Vindex, who raised his chin high as if above such mockery.

‘At a walk. In line, march!’ the senior decurion shouted. Ala I Britannica advanced, and Ferox had to admit that they made a fine show. When he had heard that he was to join them he had wondered why such a prestigious unit was not with the main army under Trajan. There were not many double-strength alae in the entire empire, and in normal times never more than one in a province. That the Britons were relegated to watching Syria had surprised him and he suspected that there was something wrong with them, like the sickly VIIII Hispana. Yet as far as he could tell, the only reason why Trajan had not selected them for higher things was that Cerialis and his men were late in arriving, delayed by a long succession of problems over orders and transport. Part of him wondered whether Hadrian had arranged that. Either way, the ala was well drilled, the horses in very good condition, as well as big by army standards, as were the men.

Even his Brigantes were impressed.

‘Not bad,’ one said.

‘Iceni, some of them. Big bastards. Ugly though.’

‘You know what they say. The Iceni love their horses so much that these days you can see the family resemblance.’ They all looked at Vindex again.

They came over the brow of the hill, the lines still neat, and Cerialis ordered the trumpets to blare. Ahead of them lay Nicopolis, the walls high, white and casting long shadows ahead of them. The gates were still closed, even though most cities opened up at dawn.