There was no pyre, as Brasus had expected, and Ivonercus told him that his kin did not burn the dead, but raised them to the Heavens. That was interesting, and Brasus watched for longer than he had intended, given that these men presented no real threat at the moment. He watched as they fashioned the platform, saw them lift the corpse onto the top.

‘The soul must be freed,’ the Briton told him. ‘Then it can find its path to the Otherworld.’

‘Do they leave him there?’

Ivonercus was reluctant to talk about it, but when pressed at last gave an answer. ‘There are places in our homeland, places touched by the gods, where the boundaries between worlds are thin. No man visits such a place unless bringing the remains of kinsman or friend, so the treasures given to the dead rest undisturbed. Here it is different. They will let the sun rise and fall twice, and before the next dawn they will dig a hole and put him in it.’

‘So he will be buried?’

The Briton looked at him as if he was a fool. ‘By then he will have gone on his journey. All that is left is the empty shell and that has no value. They may just scrape a hole and chuck it in.’

Brasus sensed that there was more, much more to this, but did not press. The ways of the unenlightened were a curiosity and no more, so he fought down the urge to stay any longer or return and contented himself by sending men to pay particular attention in case these Britons wandered anywhere they should not or showed an inclination to defect. He sensed that Ivonercus guessed who they were, but when questioned the Briton had simply shrugged.

‘They might come over,’ he said. ‘Or they might not.’

So warriors had watched them, and two of the archers had used the excuse of a hunting trip to join their friend who was on watch. The Britons had let their horses stray near to the forest, trusting the animals not to run. Their faith was justified, but when they wandered over to collect them, the warriors had not been able to resist using the bows given them by the king against human targets. Each was a beautiful creation, the two arms curving deeply. When unstrung the arms bent forward and then when strung they bulged back, so that when a nocked arrow was released it was driven with great force and speed. To hold one was to wish to loose a dart, and for eager young warriors the chance to shoot at a real enemy was too great a temptation to resist.

At least they had practised well. All three of the first arrows they shot found a mark, two in the flanks of one horse and the other in the throat of one of the riders. Then it got messy as men panicked in surprise and animals bolted.

Brasus had told his men that there were situations when they must kill if it would prevent their presence being revealed. If this happened, then he had also told them again and again that no one must escape, for one mouth could tell as much as a dozen, just as two eyes could see as much as hundreds.