Enica was by him now, holding his bridle. ‘That is not your job. Not anymore.’

‘It’s mine,’ Vindex said. ‘I am supposed to be in charge of the scouts.’

Ferox did not bother to argue. They were right, much as he regretted the days when he could head off alone or with just a handful of companions. ‘Don’t go far and don’t take any risks.’

‘Always sensible, me.’

‘Take Bran and Minura,’ Enica commanded. ‘And be careful.’

Vindex, already grinning at the mention of the young woman warrior, beamed. ‘For you, my queen, anything.’

After he had called the others, the scout headed towards the trees, the tracks that far very obvious.

‘Why can’t you be like that?’ Claudia Enica asked Ferox.

‘I am of the Silures,’ he said. ‘And I do not understand women – at least not the ones worth understanding.’

She treated him to another smile. ‘Your folk are all liars.’

They did their best for the bodies, by which time Vindex and the others returned. The trail was clear, heading through the woods. Bran gave a terse report. ‘About thirty or so, going up the valley, heading for the old tower or the pass. Weren’t trying to hide anything, so did not push our luck.’

Ferox patted him on the shoulder and praised Bran which for a moment made him seem like the happy little boy instead of the stern warrior. The ride back was easy, helped by the lengthening days, although Ferox missed the far longer spring evenings of Britannia and suspected many of the others did as well. It was two hours into the night by the time they rode back through the porta praetoria. Sabinus was waiting anxiously for their safe return and carrying news. Piso was awake.

A cave near the pass

Just before dawn, five days later

BRASUS SAT AND tried to keep his mind clear of everything. That was never a good sign and he knew it, for the emptiness should come naturally and not be forced. Wise men and old, the truly pure were said to be able to sit or lie and almost at once be empty of worldly thoughts, a vessel waiting to be filled with enlightenment. Once or twice, such peace had come to him, or he thought later that it had, but only when he was weary and a treacherous part of him wondered if that had simply been fatigue.

He opened his eyes and could see the faintest hints of the rocky chamber around him. Dawn was coming outside, the light seeping in from the distant mouth of the cave and soon it would be time to leave this place and take food and drink. His fast had begun two dawns ago, a day before he came to the cavern.

A drip of water plinked into a puddle. He had not seen it when he entered the holy place at sunset yesterday, but all through the long hours of the night the noise had gone on and on. Brasus had not slept, that much he knew, and had only shifted his posture a few times as he sat cross-legged or squatted on the bare stone. He had felt the cold of the rock, his limbs going stiff and then numb, and he had listened to the dripping water while outside the moon rose and the stars turned in the Heavens. Several times he had thought of them and tried to work out how far into the night it was. Some men were said to be transported by their visions into the Heavens themselves and spoke of walking among the stars. His was no vision, but yet more of the thoughts he could not prevent.