‘Come on, you know him well enough to know he didn’t go because of that clown.’ Vindex had switched to the language of the tribes in the unlikely event that the legionary might take offence. ‘Herself told him to go. He’ll always do what she tells him. … Me too, for that matter. The queen said go, so he went. But he wouldn’t have gone unless we were here to keep an eye on her.’

‘You keep your eyes to yourself, Carvetian!’ Enica had come up so softly in her felt boots that they had not heard her. ‘I know what you’re like.’

‘You in charge now, my queen?’ Vindex asked. ‘With the tribune away with the fairies and Petrullus in the hospital.’

Enica kneeled beside them to shelter behind the barricade. ‘I have always been in charge, you should know that by now. I just let those daft men believe that they are important.’ She turned to the legionary. ‘How goes it, Lucius?’

‘Hanging on, lady. I’ll make the bastard res publica pay me my bounty yet. Sorry, lady, forgetting myself.’

‘When is your time up?’

‘November, would you believe it?’

‘Well drink one for me when the day comes.’

‘I will, lady, I will.’

‘Time for me to go,’ the queen said. ‘Now be good children, and don’t talk to strangers!’ She ran bent almost double, and either heard the swish of the arrow or guessed for she swung to the side to let it pass.

Vindex watched her go, his admiration obvious. ‘That one’s special and no doubt.’

Claudia Enica heard the compliment and let herself smile. She was going around the whole position, checking that all was well and doing her best to encourage. Ferox had once told her that an officer was often too busy to worry about the big things, because there was always so much to do and so many little things to worry about. Still, as she squatted behind barricades or climbed up to the rafters and peered cautiously through the holes they had made in the roofs, she could not help wondering whether her husband lived and where he was. A lookout spent the daylight hours on top of the tower, because the ladders leading up were exposed to archers on the ramparts and it was too risky to climb except at night. For all they could see there might be no more than four or five hundred Dacians left at the fort, but for the second day there was no sign of anyone else, whether the enemy’s main army or any Roman relief force.

The buildings were vulnerable, because there were few windows and it was also hard to fight through small holes like that. Stone or not, the Dacians had tried to pile up timber and start fires against several walls. So far, it had not worked, mainly because they had ripped rafters and tiles away so that men could perch and follow Achilles’ example by lobbing the tiles down at anyone who came close. The dwarf was doing well and might survive, assuming any of them did. Half the food would be gone by the end of this third day, and there was a steady trickle of losses each time the Dacians attacked. If they attacked on all sides at the same time, they would surely swamp the remnants of the garrison. The only reason she could think of why they had not done this was that they did not want to lose men when it was just a matter of days.