XXX

Near Dobreta

The day before the Ides of June

‘IT IS A truly extraordinary tale, is it not?’ Hadrian said. ‘So strange that one would scarcely believe it.’

‘Sir.’ Ferox’s leg was sore, and he wanted to go looking for a poultice to put on it rather than the oily concoction the medicus had lathered all over the wound. He had taken an arrow in the thigh when he and the two Brigantes had come to the Roman outposts. Shouts – and thoroughly Roman curses – had convinced the picket of archers that they were friendly, but he had had to be carried in through the lines. The sesquiplicarius in charge of the archers had been upset to learn that one of his men had shot a Roman and a centurion by mistake. He was even more horrified when he saw that the wound was a slight one. ‘At that range, sir, it’s a disgrace. Should have got the face or chest at least.’

Soon he had been brought before Hadrian, who greeted him with delighted surprise and promised to send cavalry galloping to the fort as soon as the army had rested. True to his word, the legatus with some six hundred cavalry had set off before dawn, but Ferox was forbidden from going with them because of his leg and the Brigantes because ‘they deserved a rest’. Late that same day a despatch rider on a foam-covered horse had brought the news that the survivors were safe, with some details. More reports had come on the next day, by which time Ferox was in a bumpy waggon as the main force marched back to the river and fresh supplies. Most of the news was good and arrangements were being made to bring the survivors back as soon as was practical with so many injured.

Ferox ought to have felt happy, but his instincts told him that something was wrong, and since he had hobbled over to answer the legatus’ summons, his fears had only grown, and were fuelled when he saw Sosius leaving just as he arrived. Not that Hadrian was anything other than kind, for he had been offered wine and food and told to sit. They were in a large tent of the type senior officers used on campaign, and in spite of the heat of the day a fire burned in a brazier. Hadrian had a table and chair, both designed to fold up for ease of carriage, and several other chairs, to one of which he beckoned Ferox. There were writing tablets on the table, including the ones Ferox had brought out of the fort. Hadrian had several of them open in front of him.

‘Extraordinary is the only word I can find for it, although at times reading through we must add heroic, or mulishly stubborn which often amounts to the same thing. The late tribune Piso writes with some style in his account and is most generous towards you among others.’ Hadrian pursed his lips. ‘Your own narrative is different, with an old-fashioned Roman simplicity about it, reminiscent of Cato, although unlike him you do name others. Indeed, reading it, one would scarcely know that you were present – at least if the reader is not inclined to infer. You have not quite Caesar’s knack of a vagueness about some of his own deeds which naturally makes each reader add all the heroic details from his imagination.’