‘Can we not speak from here?’

‘I am your senior, centurion, by birth and in the army. It is not fitting that I look up at you.’

‘Don’t be a fool,’ Claudia whispered.

‘I thought that was why you married me,’ he replied, before raising his voice. ‘Sabinus, make sure the scorpio is ready. If there is the slightest sign of treachery then don’t let anyone escape.’

Vepoc winked. ‘Even you, lord?’

‘Use your judgement.’ There were archers lurking in the outer ditch, although none that close to the road or the heralds. Ferox could not see any sign of an impending attack. Still, it was difficult to be sure. Over the last few nights the Dacians had thrown up a rampart less than a hundred paces from the wall, just beyond the remnants of the lilliae, all of which they had filled in. There could be men lurking behind this shelter, ready to pour out of the gaps left in the wall as soon as the gate was opened. If so, then they were unlikely to get there before it was closed again, whatever happened to him.

By the time the gate opened and Ferox walked out, the tribune had dismounted. After some uncertainty, the Dacian and Ivonercus did the same. Piso was wearing a cuirass and the rest of his uniform apart from his helmet, but the scabbard on his left hip was empty.

‘It is good to see you well, my lord,’ Ferox said. After all this was diplomacy, so the truth was neither here nor there. ‘I trust your wound is healing?’

‘It is.’ The young aristocrat coughed nervously. ‘I am sent to ask you to yield the fort and march away with all your men.’ The words were precise and obviously rehearsed. As obvious was the tone of sarcasm. ‘I am informed that you have already refused these generous terms, but am to ask you to reconsider. There is no need for anyone else to die in this place.

‘There, that is done,’ Piso said, ‘and I have kept my word to my charming hosts. Now, give me your sword.’

‘Sir?’

‘Trust me, this is necessary. Your fellows up there can kill me with ease if that is what they want.’ He glanced up. ‘Jupiter’s holy toga, there’s a woman up there. It is true then? Such a pretty little thing too. Your sword, man.’

‘I will not yield, sir.’

‘It is an order. You, Briton, obey me!’ Piso barked the words and Ferox thought that they were directed at him until Ivonercus drew his slim spatha.

‘This is a parley!’ the Dacian said, stepping in front of Ferox, and then grunted as Ivonercus drove the sword into his stomach, the sharp point going between the scales and thrusting up. On the gate the scorpio cracked and its bolt whipped through the air, just missing the top of the Brigantian’s helmet and burying itself in the chest of the standard-bearer’s horse. The beast screamed, and rolled over, throwing its rider.