‘Young, but smart. He knows we’ll win. We can count on him, sure enough. He’ll be loyal to Rome.’

‘He’d better be, for his tribe’s sake. If he can’t keep control of his people once I’ve settled things, then I won’t take any more chances with our supplies. The Atrebatan kingdom will have to come to an end. I’ll annex it in the name of Rome, disarm the tribe and leave a permanent garrison in Calleva.’

Quintillus smiled; the legate was playing into his hands and unwittingly helping Quintillus into a position where he would have the chance to wield his procuratorial powers. ‘That would seem to be the wisest course of action, sir.’

Vespasian leaned back in his seat and shouted for his chief clerk. Moments later the man hurried through the tent flap, wax notebook in hand.

‘I want my senior officers in here now.’

‘All of them, sir?’

‘Every one. Wait there.’ Vespasian quickly shuffled through his papers until he found the most recent strength returns. He read them quickly before continuing. ‘I want the following cohorts assembled and ready to march: Labeo’s, Genialis’, Pedius’, Pollio’s, Veiento’s and Hortensius’. Six cohorts should be enough. They’re to carry arms and equipment, water bottles and light rations. Nothing else, understand? It’ll be a forced march and the cohort commanders are to make sure that they leave behind any man they have doubts about. There will be no stragglers.’

The clerk could not hide his surprise or alarm at these instructions, but Vespasian refused to enlighten him. It would be most unseemly for a legion’s commander to be seen to explain his orders to a lesser rank. He was determined to remain as detached from his men as possible. It had been hard work, often undone in the thoughtlessness of unguarded moments, which tormented him for many days afterwards.

‘Anything else, sir?’ the clerk asked.

‘No. Get to it, man!’

A thin crescent moon rose even as the last rays of the dying sun shrank away beyond the horizon. There was a brief period of darkness before the eye grew used to the pale light of the moon, and then the landscape resolved into a monochrome patchwork of fields, forests and rolling hills. From the eastern gate of the marching camp a long column of men snaked down the track that led towards Calleva, some thirty miles away. Nearly three thousand legionaries tramped along the track in loose ranks, the chinking of their equipment all but drowned out by the thud of iron-studded boots on the dry earth. Vespasian rode behind the lead cohort, a few staff officers and Quintillus spread out behind him.