‘Not while anyone was watching.’ Vindex chuckled. ‘No, not really. Too smart for that. We made friends. Had enough enemies already without finding a new one. And they’ve treated us right enough since. Left us alone most of the time, which is the main thing.’

‘The Dacians are special,’ Ferox said. ‘Remember that farm we passed last month? The one where the people were sobbing and wailing?’

‘Aye, but I still don’t get it. You said a baby had been born – a boy too. Who is mad enough to mourn when mother and child both survive?’

‘They celebrate a death. Birth means a life of toil, sorrow and imperfection is ahead. Death means that the soul goes to their god and lives in blessedness forever.’

‘Daft buggers.’

‘Means they don’t fear death. Not the true faithful at least, and especially not the nobles. You haven’t met any of them yet, nor true Dacians rather than Getae. They’re brave and they’re smart – and their king is the smartest of the lot. You can’t beat folk like that or a leader like that in a couple of years, so there is a war coming, it’s just a matter of when. This year, next year, the one after that? We’ll start it if they don’t, but you know the Romans, they like to say the other lot started every war.’

‘Do they? Haven’t they noticed that they own most of the world.’

‘They’d say that they are just very good at defending themselves, wouldn’t they? Still, makes me wonder whether Trajan wouldn’t mind if a couple of his garrisons get attacked and massacred?’

‘And we took an oath to this high chief?’ Vindex said something else in what sounded like the Celtic language, but Brasus could not understand. However, the tone made the general meaning obvious. ‘So we’re the bait, are we?’ he went on, switching back to Latin. ‘Shove a few hundred useless Brigantes who want to kill each other and us in a fort in the middle of nowhere and wait for the wolves to gather?’

‘I could be wrong.’

‘You often are,’ Vindex said without any conviction. ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ There was the sound of a man dismounting and then a scraping. ‘Trying to blunt it are you?’

‘Just checking,’ Ferox said. ‘And then we need to go and take a look at that Dacian fort up near the pass.’

‘No one was there last time.’

‘Then let’s make sure it’s still empty. Are you coming?’

‘Miserable git. No wonder the lass kicked you out.’

‘Aye, well, as you say, she’s wise.’

Brasus listened as they left, letting himself breathe naturally at last. Fate had brought him here and times like this took away all the doubts. This Ferox was indeed one of those unusual, dangerous Romans, and that thought kept him in the tree long after he was sure that they had gone. There was only an hour or so left of daylight when he climbed down, but even in the shadows beneath the trees he could make out the shape this Ferox had carved in the bark of the tree. Brasus’ blood ran cold.