‘They do not seem to be in a sociable mood,’ he said. The advance continued, and the need to watch the mounted bowmen did not make any real difference to its progress, which was slow because of the road, if the word could be used for a track left by caravans and farmers taking goods to market. None of them had much use for carts, let alone big four-wheeled waggons laden with timber for building, siege engines carried whole or in sections depending on their size, sacks, barrels and amphorae of provisions, bolts and well-shaped stones as ammunition, and all the myriad of other things felt essential. The soil was sandy, drying out as the spring advanced inexorably towards the truly hot season, and iron-rimmed wheels drove deep furrows into it and broke it up, so that the vehicles coming behind bogged down, and men sweated and cursed as they pushed to free them. Many ridges cut across their path, and none of them were high or difficult for a man or animal, but some of the little slopes were steep, which meant that teams had to be taken from several waggons simply to get one to the top, when the draft teams were sent back to repeat the exercise with the next one.

Five hundred men followed the advance guard and these wore no armour and carried tools rather than weapons, for their task was to improve the track as well as they could. They were mostly legionaries, apart from four score sailors – and the gods alone knew where Hadrian had found them. The men of the fleet had a good reputation for this sort of work, for long hours rowing or hauling ropes made them strong and the need to solve their own problems when at sea taught uncommon ingenuity. Yet there was only so much anyone could do. Gullies were filled or bridged, planks laid as a track where the path was especially soft, and gentler routes cut at an angle up some slopes. It helped a little, but still moving the vehicles was a struggle, and animals started to die as they were flogged too hard to make them move. Three carts were now hauled by relays of men.

After he had seen the horse archers shadowing them, Crispinus returned with his escort to take his position, riding past the men carrying marker flags to lay out the evening’s camp, and then the labourers working to improve the track. His place as commander was behind them, with his senior officers not otherwise engaged, all escorted by the Hispana’s little force of cavalry.

‘Any trouble, my lord?’ Arrian asked when Crispinus joined his staff.

‘No. Some fellows are watching, but not trying any mischief. So, gentlemen, we must make sure that all they see is discipline and strength.’