‘My men are warriors not labourers.’

‘They’ll be dead warriors if we don’t all work our hands to the bone.’ He sighed. ‘I will meet with your warriors as soon as I am able, but know that they must train as hard as the rest of us for the fight that is to come.’ Ferox noticed Sabinus’ doubt, but could deal with that later. ‘Tell them that this is now their dun. Here we will live or die, but I have no doubt that the blue shields of the Brigantes will ring with new honours whichever it is.’

‘We will serve the queen,’ Petrullus said, apparently sincere.

‘And she will be proud and generous,’ Ferox replied, knowing that the first was certainly true and wondering about the second. He left them and pressed on down the via praetoria. Ephippus was taking a reading from a groma, the staff resting on the road and one of the four arms with its lead plumb weights pointing at the left-hand tower of the gateway. He wondered what the Syracusan was up to, but there was no time for that. He nodded affably, and asked the engineer to see him in two hours’ time.

‘Yes, my lord.’

Ferox was a little early reaching the praetorium. It still did not feel like his house, but at least now it felt and sounded like a home as he caught the excited shouts of the children, no doubt playing in the open garden in the centre. Philo was waiting for him, with that predatory look that suggested he was poised to brush at his clothes and make a fuss.

‘She’s seen me before,’ Ferox barked. ‘She isn’t about to be fooled if I’m clean.’

‘It cannot do any harm, my lord,’ Philo replied, and as expected raised a little brush.

‘No. And you do not have to call me, my lord. Sir will do, and none too often.’

‘It will not, my lord.’ Ferox had long since grown used to the boy’s disappointment in him. ‘The queen will see you in the afternoon room. You are a little early.’

‘This is my house – or was anyway. And I know the way, so be about your business.’ Ferox went through the porch, continued through the reception room and out into the garden. It was a glorious afternoon, the sun already warming up, so that the shade was welcome.

An arrow whizzed noisily past his head. A second followed, wobbling in the air because it had a blunt tip and flights made deliberately too heavy. Ferox snatched it as it passed and pressed it to his chest before reeling in mock agony. A deluge of children swamped him, screeching with excitement. There were three boys, the youngest a dark-haired and blue-eyed ruffian, and all three grabbed him around the waist. Ferox staggered, taking them all with him and then let himself be borne down onto the ground.

‘You are a shockingly bad influence, Flavius Ferox, as I have said many times before.’ Sulpicia Lepidina had her hands on her hips, but was smiling. They had been lovers, briefly and secretly, years before and the dark-haired boy was her child and his, unlike the other step-children, although she loved them all. She was a senator’s daughter, beautiful and intelligent, as well as another man’s wife, so they had never had any future, and then later she had sent him to what could easily have been his death. None of that seemed to matter, and he felt her to be a true friend as well as the devoted mother to his son.