Ferox turned back before night started to fall, and at least the men rode with far more enthusiasm and even a little more speed on the way back to Piroboridava. The horses knew their way, knew they were going back to warmth and food and it was an effort to keep them together in a group when all were itching to race.

The Brigantes had escaped. No doubt they had heard that Decebalus was ignoring the treaty and once again welcoming army deserters into his own army, giving them rich rewards and promotion. If they played it well, then in a few months each of the fugitives could have rank, a farmstead and a pretty grey-eyed wife. That might be enough for contentment, and was better than the punishment awaiting them if ever the army caught up. Yet there was still the oath, pressing around each man’s soul. Ferox was relieved not to have to kill any more Brigantes today. Let them run, and hope never to see them again.

‘They’ll be back,’ Vindex said, breaking a silence that was unusual for him. The fort was in sight, a dark shape against the glow of the snow. ‘You know Ivonercus.’

Ferox grunted in reply, sure that his friend was right, but not wanting to talk about it. He had enough on his mind without thinking about the future. So much seemed wrong, which just meant that he was not looking at everything in the right way. There was design behind all of this, and he had to hope that he could see the truth before what he did not understand killed all of them.

*

Latinius Macer sighed, and only in part because he found Ferox irritating. As the current commander of the garrison, he had naturally invited the centurion to dine with him, and given the shocking events earlier in the day, a conference was all the more important.

Macer had a tidy mind, decades of experience in the army with its regulations and routine, and this was neither tidy nor very military. Instead it had the makings of a scandal, perhaps even a disaster, all caused by a succession of foolish decisions. Those choices were not his, and by the time the worst happened he should be far from this place, but the crassness of it all offended him. He was too old to expect fairness from the world any more than sense from the army, so the risk that his name would become associated with it all simply because he had handed over the command was just how the world worked. Still, he would make sure that he had done all that he could.

‘So, please help me to understand,’ he said, trying again. ‘Your own men want to kill you?’

‘Some of them.’

Macer had planned to leave Piroboridava as soon as his successor arrived, and was wondering whether or not he could still do this in the circumstances. If his health had been better he might have jumped at the excuse to stay on. Forty-three years in the army was a long, long time, and he wondered about life as a civilian.