Half an hour later the First Century set off down the slope with Maximius at the head of the column, accompanied by all the optios and Centurions Macro, Antonius and Felix. Tullius, the most senior officer after Maximius, was left to oversee the construction of the camp, and watched anxiously as the small column tramped towards the native village on the far side of the stream. A trampled and churned funnel of earth on each side of the gentle current indicated the presence of a crossing point, and Maximius and his men splashed through the shallows with a loud churning of spray before they emerged dripping on the far bank and started up a worn track towards the flimsy palisade that surrounded the village.

As they approached Macro could see several faces peering at them either side of the gate, and for a moment he wondered if the villagers would make any attempt at resisting the heavily armed Roman column. He raised his hand and let it rest on the pommel of his short sword, ready to draw the weapon the instant there was any sign of trouble. Around him, Macro sensed the growing tension amongst the other officers, and as they came within slingshot range of the gate Maximius gave the order to halt. For a moment he glanced over the defences, then turned to Macro.

‘What do you think?’

Macro saw that there was still only a handful of natives watching them, and none of them appeared to be armed.

‘Seems safe enough, sir.’

Maximius scratched his neck.’Then why’s the gate still shut, I wonder?’ He turned towards the front rank of the column. ‘I’ll send some men forward, just in case . . .’

‘No need, sir.’ Macro nodded past him. ‘Look.’

The gates were swinging inwards, and a short distance inside the village stood a group of men. At their head was a tall, thin figure with flowing white hair. He leaned on a staff and remained quite still.

Centurion Felix moved closer to Macro. ‘Welcoming committee, do you think?’

‘If it is, then it won’t be for long,’ Macro replied quietly.

Satisfied that there was no sign of danger Maximius gave the order for the column to approach. As he fell under the shadow of the palisade the man with the staff finally moved, striding purposefully forward to meet his visitors at the threshold of his village. He started to make a speech in a rich deep voice.

‘Stop!’ Maximius raised a hand and called back over his shoulder. ‘Interpreter! On me!’

A legionary doubled forward, one of the recent replacements from Gaul. Macro saw that he had the same Celtic features as the villagers he was about to question. The legionary stood to attention between Centurion Maximius and the elderly native.

‘Find out what he wants to say, and tell him to keep it brief,’ Maximius snapped.