‘Send for me if anything exciting happens,’ Ferox told the sentries. ‘And you, centurion, get some rest. No arguments this time.’ He headed back to the principia where the innkeeper and several others were waiting to receive signed statements that their property had been destroyed on army orders according to military needs. The odds were that the statements would not do them much good. Legal rights for anyone living in the canabae were pretty loose at the best of times, until the garrison had been there for many years and the civilians organised themselves and were granted the communal status of a vicus.

Half way through the last hour of the day, Ferox was called back to the gate tower. There were thousands of Dacians now, close enough for him to see bands of king’s men, chieftains and their kin and tenants, some groups that were surely deserters, and more than a few warbands of Bastarnae, but none of this was why he had been summoned.

‘There, sir! It’s them,’ the sentry was excited as he pointed at horsemen coming over the rise to the south west. They had a blue vexillum standard at their head, and there was a smaller figure riding a grey in the lead.

Well done, wife, or Vindex or whoever had made the decision, thought Ferox. They must have forded the river lower down, so that they did not need the bridge. That helped explain why they had taken so long to get here, for the only crossing places were half a day away and even then could only be done a couple of horses at a time because the banks were broken in just a few places allowing the animals through.

There was not any sign of waggons or pack animals, but Ferox had never really expected that. What mattered was that the horsemen kept coming over the crest and across the field towards the west gate and as far as he could see they had lost no one.

‘Scorpiones!’ Ferox shouted. He did not want Dacian archers moving to shoot at the cavalry. That was the most that the enemy could do, because they were in the wrong positions to block the horsemen and would have to move closer to the fort to get at them. If they did, then he would make them pay a high price.

Julius Dionysius appeared through the trapdoor.

‘Sorry, but would you mind going to the west gate to see them in.’

Dionysius gave a wry smile and hurried down the ladder. Ferox just heard one of the auxiliaries with him muttering, ‘Up, down, up, down, can’t the bugger make up his mind.’

The Dacians had archers with the men over the river and these ran forward to the bank. It was a long shot, but as the riders urged their weary mounts to a last great effort arrows began to loop high in the air. One of the horses stumbled and fell, throwing its rider. Another man dropped from his saddle and lay still in the grass. There was nothing Ferox could do, for the range was too great. Someone went back for the fallen man and scooped him up to ride behind his saddle. The horse took an arrow, making it kick, but both men stayed on somehow.