‘Was there more?’ Ferox called down.

Snapping out of his surprise, the man coughed and then resumed. ‘The king wishes to avoid war and needless bloodshed. Although he can no longer permit the pollution of our lands by the presence of unbelievers, he wishes for peace with Rome and its emperor. If all the Roman soldiers leave our lands they may go free and safe and we shall have peace.’ The words sounded rehearsed, and probably those of someone more senior for the young aristocrat did not look or sound stupid enough to be so tactless in negotiation. ‘You may all go free and march away with your pride and honour intact, taking all your possessions. That is the promise of the king.’

Ferox stared down, saying nothing. The Dacian waited, his horse now happy to stand where it was. There was muttering behind him, and he caught a ‘Tell him and his king to go hump themselves,’ no doubt from Vindex.

‘Your commander, Longinus, is a prisoner of our king as are all his officers. They are surety for the good behaviour of their men as they retire. The men who were at the king’s stronghold have marched away and soon all the others will follow. You are the only garrison still to accept the king’s mercy. Why delay?’

Liar, thought Ferox, but still said nothing.

‘What is your answer?’ the Dacian shouted after a long silence. ‘Yes or no.’

‘Can we think about it for a few days?’ Someone behind him laughed nervously.

‘What?’

‘It’s a big decision.’

Vindex sniggered.

‘Yes or no!’ The aristocrat was growing angry. ‘If you refuse you will all die here.’

‘Ah well, you did not say that. But are not men born to die?’

‘Well they’re born stupid, at least,’ Claudia said, prompting more laughter.

The Dacian moved to say something and then stopped. His face was growing redder.

‘And when you say we can take everything with us – how about the buildings?’ Ferox was doing his best to sound serious.

The Dacian’s temper erupted. ‘So be it! You will not accept the king’s mercy so you will all die! The whore as well!’

‘Think he means you,’ Claudia told Ferox. ‘He must have heard the stories.’

Vindex doubled up as he laughed, and the mirth was infectious as the herald and his escort rode away. As they galloped past the foremost archers, the nobleman waved his hand and the first arrows took flight. The range was long, but most struck the parapet or lower down on the rampart. No one was hit. At this range there was plenty of time to see each one coming and either duck or raise a shield.

‘Remember we do not waste bolts or arrows,’ Ferox told Sabinus and the other officers once again. ‘One arrow, one dead Dacian. Anything else is a waste. Have one of the scorpiones knock one or two of them on the head every hour or so to keep them honest but that’s all.’