The day passed visiting the walls and work parties, issuing orders, encouraging, praising and now and again chasing weary men to work harder. The mood had changed, and he suspected the arrival of Piso and his breaking the truce was making men wonder whether he would bring down ill fortune on them all. No one seemed pleased to see him, and Sosius, who was working hard and showing a deal of skill in fletching arrows, hinted that the aristocrat was not to be trusted.

Half an hour before midnight, Ferox ate a little food and went to get a few hours’ sleep before he needed to inspect the sentries and check that all was well. To his surprise there was a large wooden frame bed with its own roof and curtains somehow squeezed into his small chamber. It belonged to Lepidina and Cerialis, and had remained on the cart with the belongings the lady had not unpacked. In fact, Ferox had been wondering whether to ask for it and several other bulky pieces of furniture to help with the barricades needed for Ephippus’ sanctuary.

Ferox blinked, wondering whether he had taken a wrong turn, then undressed mechanically, wishing that there was time for a bath, because he knew that the hot water would relax him. Still, sleep should not be a problem, for he ached in body and mind. He was half asleep already, otherwise he might have guessed.

‘I had almost given up,’ Claudia Enica said as he drew back the curtains. She smiled as he stood there, wholly naked, for the nights had grown sultry and oppressive.

‘I am so tired, my love,’ he stammered.

‘We shall see about that,’ she said, pulling back the blankets to show that she was as bare as he was.

Piroboridava

The next day

RHOLES WAS DEAD. The day after the grand attack on the fort, the old warrior had spoken in the morning of how they would win next time and of all that they must do to make this happen. He was pale, his eyes dark-rimmed, but his voice was steady and he filled all the council with confidence. Brasus cherished the praise he gave for his foresight in taking a tree trunk with him, so that he could batter at the gates once they were weakened by the stones from the catapult. That was what had got them in, only to find the way blocked by carts and barrels, javelins coming from all sides and horsemen galloping up in support.

In the afternoon Rholes’ bowels opened and would not stop for all that day and the night. When Brasus went to his tent the next morning the stench made him gag, even before he got a glimpse of the sick man through a gap in the tent flap. His skin was by then yellow, shrunken around his bones, and the eyes of his woman were glassy with tears on the verge of spilling out. If Rholes saw him at all he said nothing, and then he gasped and his face was wracked with pain as his muscles strained again. By the morning he was dead, along with a dozen others among the army, all of them with the same sickness.