‘There was a royal ala and cohort trained and equipped like regular auxiliaries. Aviragus commanded the cavalry, but all of them followed him when he raised an army.’ Ferox did his best to explain, deciding that Macer was sensible enough to treat with respect. So he talked about how the rebels had announced that Trajan was dead and Neratius Marcellus trying to make himself emperor, which meant that they were not revolting against Rome, only against a usurper. He even mentioned the rout of the first column sent against them, and the desperate battle to break the rebel army, only won when enough loyal Brigantes came to the Romans’ aid.

‘How many of the king’s men survived?’ Macer asked.

‘More than half were taken prisoner more or less unscathed. The wounded were sent home, others fled and were not caught. Apart from the leaders, no one was too interested to go hunting for them.’

‘How many were executed?’ Macer’s tone was matter of fact. Both men knew the fate of rebels. ‘I take it that they did not just tell the prisoners that they were conscripted into the army and place you in charge.’

Ferox gave a wry smile. ‘Not quite. At least, not straightaway. But this was not a war, you see, not a rebellion, however it looked. Too many important people were connected, more or less distantly, and with the emperor about to win glory on behalf of the res publica, public trials and executions would not have fitted with the spirit of the age. All this was just a disturbance by bandit leaders, a few good men turned bad, and nothing to threaten the peace and stability of the empire.’

Macer grunted, but was sensible enough to let Ferox tell it in his own way, now that he had started.

‘A couple of dozen died, the executions private and quick – no crucifixions or trips to the arena. About a hundred were condemned to the mines, although in the event most ended up working on the salt beds. I would guess as many more were vouched for by loyal leaders, most of all Aviragus’ sister Enica, who had been staunch throughout, and they took a fresh oath to Rome and to serve her. That left almost three hundred, all of whom were given a once in a lifetime opportunity to enlist in the army.’

‘And they are your men?’ Macer rubbed his chin, an old habit he had never quite shaken off.

Ferox had a surprisingly musical laugh. ‘Would that it were so simple? Most were sent off to one of the cohorts or alae of Britons, as long as the unit was stationed well outside the province. Some settled in, and some were trouble. I have a score of recaptured deserters from that lot, and fifty mutineers. Then I have ninety of the ones from the first batch that were not sent out to a unit – maybe nobody wanted them, as some are old or speak no Latin and seem too dull to learn. I am not especially popular with any of them and none are too keen on army life in the first place. After that it gets really funny, because it was decided after a couple of years to let the ones condemned to hard labour have a chance to rehabilitate themselves through military service.’