The tribune saluted and strode off into the darkness, and Vespasian watched until even the last dim outline of the man had disappeared. If anything did happen to him, and Quintillus took command, Vespasian dreaded the consequences for his men. Perhaps he should put his instructions to the tribune in writing and ask one of the cohort commanders to witness the document. Almost as soon as the idea jumped into his head Vespasian dismissed it with contempt. Much as he disliked the tribune, it would never do to treat him so dishonourably. Quintillus had his orders and was honour-bound to obey them.

His thoughts returned at once to the spectre of Caratacus and his army manoeuvring towards Calleva. It was hard to believe that the British commander had managed to give General Plautius the slip. Yet Tincommius held to his story. In which case, the legate mused, there were a number of possibilities. The prince might be hoping that the Romans, fearing for their lives, would quit Calleva, and then the Durotrigans would return and complete what they had started. Conversely, if Caratacus was coming, surely Tincommius would lie and hope that his ally might catch Vespasian and his six cohorts in Calleva, and thereby destroy the best part of a legion? That would deal a lethal blow to General Plautius’ campaign. There was nothing that could be done, he decided, until he had more information.

Back in the storeroom, he undid the ties of his breastplate and stretched his shoulders. Then he sent for the decurion in charge of the small squadron of scouts and ordered the man to assemble his riders. They were to leave the fort at once and begin reconnoitring to the north and west for any signs of a native army. Once the order was given, Vespasian gladly laid himself down on a pile of cured animal skins and fell fast asleep.

Cato woke with a start. The young centurion struggled into a sitting position, bleary-eyed and his mind still fogged with sleep. As he looked around numbly, Cato saw that the royal enclosure was still shrouded in darkness, and away to the east glimmered the faint glow of a false dawn. All about him shadows moved in the gloom as the Roman officers moved down the lines of slumbering soldiers, shaking their men awake. Macro approached him.

‘What’s happening?’ asked Cato.

‘Get up. We’re moving.’

‘Moving?’

‘Getting out of Calleva and back to the legion.’

‘Why?’

‘Legate’s orders. Get your men ready. Now move yourself!’