‘Your bath house is finished?’ Ferox asked as the lanky Vindex trudged away through the four-inch deep snow. The long building was over to the right, close to the river but some way from the bridge and the centurion turned to face it.

Sabinus gave a wry smile. ‘Almost. Everything is taking much longer to dry in this cold. They say in another week they’ll be able to light the fires for the first time. Not that it will do us much good, but your lads ought to enjoy it.’

‘Don’t move, centurion!’ Sabinus gasped as he felt the point of a sword pressing into his side where his cloak had fallen back. He was wearing mail, but the tip was already inside a ring and a strong thrust would punch through. ‘Say nothing and you will live.’ It was the Briton Mobacus or whatever the barbarian was called. The other man had his sword pressed against Ferox.

‘Take out your sword and drop it. Slowly mind,’ the other decurion said.

‘You too, sir. Nice and easy,’ Molacus added. ‘No fuss, no sudden moves.’

‘Better do as they say,’ Ferox said.

Sabinus wondered if this was some strange joke. It seemed too bizarre to be anything else. The one called Vindex was still plodding down to the bridge and did not appear to have noticed.

Sabinus’ gladius grated on the metal mouth of his scabbard as he drew it, holding the pommel with just his finger and thumb. Ferox’s sword, one of the longer, old fashioned types, dropped to the ground first, so he felt no shame in letting his own blade go.

‘And the pugio. Gently now.’

‘I don’t carry one,’ Sabinus said. ‘Now just what—’ He stopped as the sword was pressed harder. Glancing nervously to the side, he saw Ferox slide an army issue dagger from his right hip and drop it.

‘Do what we say and it will all be fine,’ Molacus said.

‘This is absurd,’ Sabinus snapped until the point was pushed in just a little more. His side started to ache from the pressure.

‘Sir?’ The soldier on picket duty called, no doubt wondering what was happening.

‘Taranis!’ Molacus had noticed that Vindex had stopped and had glanced back at them.

‘No need to harm the centurion,’ Ferox said, his words steady. ‘You’ve got to go over the rampart now anyway and one more witness won’t matter. Your oath was for vengeance, not murder.’

‘As long as he does what he’s told,’ Molacus said and then added something more in a language Sabinus did not understand. He gulped, but the point of the sword drew back a fraction. Sabinus wanted to ask again what all this was about, but his throat felt so dry that he doubted the words would come.

‘We must do it now!’ the one behind Ferox said. Vindex was walking back towards them. Behind him, the riders kicked their horses to move, but they were still a hundred yards away from the warrior.