It took half a day to get the monâkon to the base of the ramp, and night had fallen by the time that they were done, so that men with torches lit the way. Ferox had been surprised at how slowly the engineer raised the great machine, inching it up the slope, then stopping and having men thrust in levers as brakes to hold it in place while pulleys were adjusted. He did not stay to watch the whole thing, because he wanted to show trust and also had a lot of other things to do. Yet he made sure to pass by every half hour or so and sometimes the thing had barely moved.

‘Sure this is a good idea?’ Vindex asked time after time.

‘No,’ Ferox replied, prompting Claudia Enica to shake her head in dismay. She was dressed in high Thracian boots, a short, belted tunic under a mail shirt, with a sica, a curved sword of the type common in this area and used by Thracian gladiators on one hip and a gladius on the other. Today she was not wearing a helmet, and her long hair was braided and coiled on top of her head. This had been her garb each day, sometimes with a different cuirass, sometimes with a plumed helmet, and very occasionally adding a cloak if the morning was cold.

‘I am queen,’ she had told him when she appeared at morning orders the first time. ‘These are my warriors, so I must lead them.’

Sabinus had gulped nervously, for the skirt of the queen’s tunic showed most of her legs and he was not accustomed to seeing an equestrian lady display herself in this way, let alone such an attractive one. However, the army was the army and things ought to be done properly. ‘The numerus is under the care of your husband.’ He swallowed again, for like everyone else he knew that the marriage between Ferox and Claudia was scarcely orthodox. ‘That is Flavius Ferox. It is not the Roman custom to let ladies serve as soldiers.’

Claudia gave him a look of the sort Ferox had always felt she reserved for him alone, mingling disappointment with weary contempt at the stubborn idiocy of a small boy. Having already had this conversation with her, and realised that she was absolutely determined and quite possibly right, he let it play out.

‘I am queen, and we are Brigantes.’

‘You are Roman, my lady,’ Sabinus said, surprising Ferox by his determination. ‘This is not proper.’ Then he made a huge mistake as his lips curled into a smile. ‘I admire your bravery, but war is grim work and best left to men.’

Enica nodded thoughtfully as if seeing the wisdom, prompting Sabinus to smile, but before he could say another word she started to turn. Her hand gripped the sica, which slid from the scabbard in one fluid motion and flicked up, the curved edge stopping a whisker short of the centurion’s throat. It was all so sudden, but then Dionysius jumped back in surprise and a guard was shouting, hefting his pilum to use as a spear.