Macro nodded. ‘Yes, sir. It appears that only Figulus has deserted with the others. But our sentries claim that they were jumped by two men. Seems that the second man is still in the camp.’

‘He’d better be found then,’ Vespasian said quietly. ‘I think that General Plautius will want someone’s head in compensation. Rather this accomplice than one of your heads, wouldn’t you agree, gentlemen?’

There was no reply to that and the centurions faced their legate with drained and despairing expressions. Behind them Tullius was leading a squad of men through the gap that had been torn in the palisade, and fully armed they slithered in an ungainly fashion down into the ditch on the far side and followed the marks left by the prisoners that led towards the corner of the camp.

Vespasian shook his head. ‘This is a sorry state of affairs, Centurion Maximius. Not only are you in the deepest shit for this complete and utter balls-up, you’ve dragged me into it as well . . . Thanks.’

There was nothing Maximius could say. What use was an apology, and to even utter one would worsen the burden of shame that lay on his shoulders. So he stared mutely back at his legate until the latter wearily turned round and mounted his horse. Vespasian looked down at the centurions with a sneer on his lips.

‘I’m going to break the news to the general, before he can march the cohorts from the other legions across the river to witness punishment. I somehow doubt that Aulus Plautius is going to take the bad news in his stride. You’d better make sure your affairs are in order.’

Vespasian swung his horse away, and urged it back through the gate and down the muddy track towards the main camp. His escort of staff officers set off after him. As they rounded the corner of the legion’s camp a squadron of the mounted scouts came galloping the other way. They slewed round and rode along the gap between the two camps, towards the place where Tullius and his men were following the passage of the escapees through the long grass towards the copse of oak trees. A distant movement on a slight rise visible beyond the main camp drew Macro’s eye and he saw the dark shapes of another squadron galloping up the slope, fanning out as they scouted the land to the west.

‘We’d better hope they find Cato and the others quickly,’ Centurion Felix muttered. ‘Which direction do you think they’ve gone?’

‘West,’ Antonius said with certainty.’Or south-west. It’s the only direction that makes sense.’

‘Right into the heart of enemy territory?’ Felix shook his head. ‘Are you mad?’