Vespasian caught a movement over by the rampart and looked up with a start. He had been so lost in thought that he had momentarily lost track of the general’s movements and was surprised to see that he had reached the gap in the palisade. The legate told himself he would have to watch that. Letting his attention wander in the presence of superiors was a dangerous habit.

General Plautius bent down to look at the gap for a moment, then straightened up and leaned carefully over the palisade to inspect the ditch on the far side. At length he turned round slowly and paced back towards his officers.

Sextus leaned closer to his legate and growled in a low voice, ‘Now we’re for it.’

The general stopped several paces from the silent officers and let his eyes wander over them until they came to rest on Vespasian.

‘Every single one?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And no sign of them?’

‘Not yet, sir. But I’ve sent all my scouts and my Batavian mounted cohort out to look for the prisoners. They’ll report as soon as they find anything.’

‘I’d imagine they would,’ Plautius replied with scything sarcasm. ‘Otherwise there’s not much point them being out in this weather, is there?’

‘Er, no, sir.’ Vespasian made himself steady his gaze, fighting off the temptation to glance down, or away from his commander. ‘Not much.’

‘So, forty-odd men just happened to escape without anyone in this camp, or the Second Legion’s main camp, noticing. Strikes me as rather unlikely. Which implies two possibilities. Either your lookouts are as blind as Tiresias, or . . . the prisoners were permitted to escape. Either way, your men are responsible for this situation, Legate.’

Vespasian bowed his head a fraction. Plautius was being unfair. It had been a dark and rainy night and the sentries of his camp might well have missed movement from the rampart of the Third Cohort’s camp. That would sound like an excuse and Vespasian could well imagine the quiet sneers and sidelong glances that would greet such an explanation. He kept his mouth shut and met his general’s gaze steadily.

‘If my men are to be held to account, then since I am their commander, any fault is mine as much as theirs . . . sir.’

The general nodded. ‘That’s right, Legate. The question is, what am I to do about it? What would be a suitable punishment for you and your legion?’