‘What are her chances? A decision like that would have to be made by the emperor, but he would surely listen to the legatus.’

‘No idea,’ Ferox lied. He was not about to start discussing Claudia Enica with a stranger. ‘I’m not paid enough to have an opinion.’

IV

Near Vindobona, Province of Upper Pannonia

Thirteenth day before the Kalends of March

IT WAS LATE for travelling, especially for such a fine coach, a fashionable, well-sprung and expensive raeda pulled by four mules, and the tall man grunted in satisfaction from his hiding place a few hundred paces away. He had feared a few armed escorts and he needed to be quick for this was too far within the empire for his liking.

‘Told you,’ Sosius said, crouching beside the tall warrior in the ditch running next to the road. ‘No guards. Just an old man driving, a boy to help with the horses and a couple of other slaves.’

‘Not the brightest, is she?’ Quiet country roads were rarely safe, let alone at night. ‘Any cutpurse could take her.’

‘She’s discreet and married, as is her lover. He’s waiting a couple of miles down the road in the farmhouse. Expect she’s all dressed up for him. You know what these fashionable ladies are like.’

‘Only from a distance. They’d never have looked at a common soldier like me.’ The tall man grunted again. ‘Doesn’t matter if she’s dumb, Catualda isn’t after brains. You sure she’s pretty?’

‘A goddess. Twenty-five, skin still like alabaster, and everything where it should be. Knows how to use it too, well broken in by husband and lovers. And fancy, if that’s what he wants, then he couldn’t find a fancier, unless he wants to send you to go to Rome itself.’

‘Hair? The king believes all Roman ladies have black hair.’

‘Redhead, but if he’s that keen on dark hair there’s always dye. What does it matter if all he wants is to hump a fancy Roman lady?’

That was why the tall man was here, hired by the king of a clan two hundred miles beyond the limes, far enough out of Rome’s reach if he could only find one and get her past the army’s outposts and far enough away before anyone found out or could catch them. He had been hired because he had once been a soldier of Rome, and a good one too, until a decurion wanted his woman and he had killed the man and run. Twelve years on, he could barely remember the woman’s face, let alone her name, but he had survived, first in Dacia and now among the Marcomanni, Quadi and the peoples to the east. He sold his sword, killing as he was bidden, with half a dozen good men at his side. Catualda liked the silver dishes and the pale blue glass of the empire, and listened with fascination to traders’ tales of the greater wonders of Rome. He was rich by the standards of the tribes, for his clan controlled large salt beds and lived in hill country hard for others to attack, but through which one of the best of the old trade roads passed. For whatever reason, Catualda wanted a Roman lady to add to his wives, and had promised them plenty of gold if they brought her. The king reckoned that a one-time soldier of Rome was best suited to the task – and since the tall man was known as a bandit and raider, no one was likely to ask too many questions if he was caught. Even if he revealed the secret, the Romans had never come as far as the King’s lands and were not likely to start now.