‘I am truly sorry,’ Hadrian said, ‘but let us talk instead of the assault on Piso. Any idea who might have done it?’

‘No, my lord.’ Ferox suspected that the legatus was more likely to guess what had been behind the attack. ‘I had never heard his name until last night. Perhaps there is someone with a grudge against the family, but it seems improbable. And I cannot help wondering whether the dead soldier was killed by whoever attacked the tribune.’

‘Unless that Briton had a go at Piso, and then had a roof fall on him…’ Hadrian hesitated, and that was striking in so suspicious a man. ‘Or he was the one who tried to kill our tribune, and some pious citizen saw it, stopped him from finishing the job and then made sure that the would-be assassin would not have the chance to make any more trouble?’

‘Perhaps, my lord.’

‘Well, it would fit the facts, would it not? Robbery, hatred of Rome or even mistaken identity. If he was also the incendiary, then disposing of an officer would be an added treat for his Dacian paymasters.’

‘I shall see what I can find out,’ Ferox said, although he could sense that the legate knew a good deal more about the whole affair.

‘As you wish,’ Hadrian said. ‘See what you can discover, but some sense tells me that something very much like that happened. As long as there is no one else here in the pay of the Dacians, the danger may be over.’

Like hell, thought Ferox, but said nothing. He would investigate even though he suspected that only Hadrian or someone working for him knew what had happened and had no intention of telling him.

Hadrian grinned, his neat teeth very white. ‘Well if Piso wakes up he will be your problem and there is nothing I can do about that. But what can I do for you?’

‘I could do with more men,’ the centurion said, ‘more food to replace what we have lost, and assurance that help will come.’

Hadrian walked to the far rail and tossed a pebble into the flowing water. ‘A legatus of a legion scattered in dribs and drabs in several provinces cannot command much. I shall do my best for you – and for my men serving here. But I cannot command and dispose as I will. And perhaps we are starting at shadows and seeing enemies where there are none? What do we have – rumours, suspicions, disgruntled men in an outpost. And the thought that Decebalus wants a new war and will attack as he has done before, and that he might attack here because then he could drive on unmolested, take our own bridge, damn his impudence, and invade our provinces while we do not have enough to stop him. In Rome that would all sound very wild.’

Ferox said nothing.

Hadrian stared down at the river, surging beneath them and almost bursting its banks from the snow melting on the far mountain tops, and waited. ‘Just a little river,’ he said after a while, ‘and just a little road leading to a great river and a wonderful bridge. What would the enemy gain – that is if they are the enemy? But if they are not the enemy then why does Decebalus send his men among the Roxolani?’ Ferox had told him what he had learned from his visit to their camp. ‘And I hear on good authority he has sent men and gold among many peoples and tribes, and why does he keep luring over our deserters to serve him? And why does a well-built and kept granary in our only fort on this route get set on fire?’