Quintillus clamped his mouth shut as he followed the legionary through the gateway of the Second Legion’s marching camp, and up the main thoroughfare towards the complex of tents where the legate had his headquarters. There would be time enough to humiliate that wretched optio later. Right now Quintillus needed to warn Vespasian of the danger to Calleva while there still might be a chance of saving the Atrebatans’ capital. Then the tribune might yet salvage some political capital from the situation. After all, he had risked his life to get the message to Vespasian. Not that he had run into any of the enemy in his desperate ride for help, but he might have. Courage, he reminded himself, consists of action in the knowledge of the probability of peril. He had acted, and was therefore due his portion of admiration. That made him feel far better, and by the time they reached headquarters the tribune was bathing in the warm glow of high self-regard.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Vespasian snapped, once the man was admitted to his quarters. The legate was sitting behind his desk, preparing, by the faint light of the setting sun, the orders for the next phase of the campaign. In two days’ time the Second Legion would be moving west once more, to destroy a string of hillforts along the northern frontier of the Durotrigans’ lands. After that the legion would strike south, laying waste everything in its path until it reached the coast. By then, the Durotrigans must sue for peace, and there would be one less tribe allied to Caratacus.

Vespasian had just finished reading a report on the condition of the legion’s catapults and had started on a light supper of cold chicken and wine before resuming his work. He continued chewing as the unwelcome visitor introduced himself.

‘Tribune Caius Quintillus, sir. Attached to General Plautius’ staff.’

‘Never heard of you.’

‘I only arrived in Britain a month ago, sir. Replacement.’

‘Misplacement, more like.’ Vespasian arched an eyebrow. ‘Bit out of your way, Tribune. Don’t tell me you went out hunting and got lost.’

‘No, sir.’

‘Well, then?’

‘I was sent by the general to assess the situation in Calleva, sir.’