When the nearest rider was no more than a mile away from him Cato saw a sudden flurry of movement halfway along the line of mounted men. One had dropped to the ground and was beckoning to his comrades. As word was passed each way along the line the men wheeled their mounts in and trotted towards the growing cluster of men and animals. Cato strained his eyes to try to see more clearly what was happening below him. Most of the men had dismounted and their officer was conferring with the man who had made the discovery. As he stared at them, Cato realised that these men were not legionary scouts. The cut of their capes and the kite shields slung across their backs showed that they were from an auxiliary cohort and a cold chill of realisation burst through Cato’s veins as he picked out the dull gleam of a bear’s head standard.

‘Batavians . . .’

The ruthless Germanic tribe had provided General Plautius with a number of hard-fighting but reckless cohorts of cavalry. The Batavians had won a fearsome reputation at the crossing of the Mead Way a year earlier, and had promptly cut down every prisoner that came their way in a fit of bloodlust - one of several such fits, Cato recalled with a growing sense of dread. They would show no mercy to their prey if they came upon Cato and his men. The tensions between the men of the legions and the Batavians went way beyond the usual inter-unit rivalry that was to be found in most armies. Men had died when bands of off-duty Romans and Germans had clashed in Camulodunum.

The leader of the patrol strode clear of his men. He braced his shoulders and rubbed his stiff backside as he scanned the surrounding landscape. Cato instinctively pressed himself down as the man’s face turned fully towards his position on the ridge. It was absurd, he reassured himself; no one could have seen him in that poor light and at that distance. The Batavian leader swung round and waved his arms. The men on the ground quickly mounted and formed a loose column as they waited for orders. Their leader swung himself across the back of his horse and pulled on the reins. With a wave of his arm the small column edged forwards and then broke into a steady trot. A moment later it was clear to Cato that they were heading almost directly towards him. He had no idea what they could have seen lying on the ground, but whatever it was the Batavians had correctly deduced the direction the fugitives had taken.