‘Do you trust us now, centurion?’ he called as he cut the bonds, using the language of the tribes.

‘You are Brigantes,’ Ferox shouted. ‘The Brigantes keep faith. This I have always known. You are held by your oath.’

‘We are, but the queen is queen and if I doubted her before I do not now. We are her people and will follow her and obey, wherever it leads us.’

‘That is why I have trusted you,’ Ferox said. ‘And have been pleased to have you by my side.’

Vepoc nodded. All of their eyes were stinging from the rain.

‘You have done more than enough if you wish to leave me,’ Ferox said. It was two nights since they had left Piroboridava, Ferox creeping ahead of the others to kill two guards. Apart from that, it had been easy getting away, for almost all of the attackers were marching down the valley and the ones left behind were deep in exhausted sleep. Sosius had slipped off almost immediately, and although Ferox did not trust the man, he felt easier in his mind not having him with them. Perhaps the slave was dead or perhaps he would reach the Roman army before them, but none of that was up to him.

It was much harder getting through the Dacian army, and for a long time they had stuck to the woodland on the south slopes of the valley, going slowly and keeping out of sight. In the first day they went barely seven miles, having to hide more than once when bands passed nearby. The second morning their luck had turned when they saw a pack mule, which must have got loose and strayed to the edge of the forest, and soon afterwards two horsemen searching for it. Ferox had suspected that the men were less than enthusiastic about the battle, so taking their time about their errand. The ambush was quick and easy and Ivonercus had suggested that they pose as deserters in the king’s service, bringing a prisoner to Diegis, for that would mean that they could ride in the open and go faster. They had talked their way past everyone they encountered, until they had fallen in with the deserters who had clung to them for the rest of the day.

‘The queen will count your service more than fulfilled, and see your families restored to lands and honour,’ Ferox said.

‘We have come this far,’ Vepoc called.

‘And done it well, but getting to our army will not be easy, and we may well fall at the hands of our own men. If I am killed, they may not believe that you are loyal to Rome and treat you as traitors and deserters.’

‘Hold up your arm, prince of the Silures,’ Ivonercus said. Both he and Vepoc were rolling up their right sleeve.

‘This is an honour,’ Ferox told him, and his face was lit up by another flash of lightning. He took the knife and ran it across his skin, making a line of blood that instantly washed away. Vepoc took the knife and did the same, then held up his arm so that Ferox pressed his against it. The knife went to Ivonercus.