‘Among other things, sir,’ Naso added.

‘Hmmm. Well, let’s turn to the engines. There is a scorpio in each of the gate towers. Do we have any more?’

‘Half a dozen in the workshops that could be decent given a little work. As many more if we could get new washers and frames.’

‘That’s something. See to it.’ Dionysius nodded as Ferox glanced at him. ‘And they’ll need plenty of ammunition. What about the trophies?’ Sabinus showed his surprise. When Ferox had first arrived he had done no more than point at the buildings, but had seen no useful purpose in going inside. They were a pair of former granaries, left empty of food during the last campaign of the war and empty until the Dacians handed over dozens of war engines as part of the peace treaty. Why they had been brought to Piroboridava no one seemed to know and Sabinus could not guess, but here they were, slowly rotting away and no doubt forgotten by everyone. He had kept quiet about them rather than have Ferox create even more tasks cleaning and maintaining what was probably no more than junk. They said more than half were local made rather than machines captured from the Romans or donated by the Emperor Domitian when he had bought peace with Decebalus so that he could go off and fight the Suebi.

‘Don’t know, sir.’

‘We’ve kept them locked up as ordered,’ Sabinus said, unwilling to let the old soldier take responsibility for something over which he had had no control. ‘But no one has told us what to do with them.’

‘Then no harm in taking a look to see what we have.’

‘Waggons coming, sir!’ one of the sentries shouted out his report.

Ferox had seen the dust a while ago, and turned back to see the five brightly painted waggons, each with a high cover, as many more ox carts, a single coach and long lines of pack mules.

‘That’s Tettius Crescens, sir,’ Dionysius said. ‘Almost to the day he came last year. The lads will be pleased.’ Even from this distance women’s voices could be heard from the passengers in the waggons, even if little could be seen under the vehicles’ covers. Vindex was leering, and Naso barely less interested.

Ferox was unimpressed. ‘I’ll see this merchant later. He asked for an appointment to see the commander, but not until it is convenient for me.’

‘He does have friends, sir,’ Sabinus reminded him. ‘Who wrote on his behalf.’

‘I’ll see him, but first I want to look at these Dacian catapults and see if there is anything worthwhile stored in those halls. If nothing else, there may be timber we can use or iron and bronze to melt down. Dionysius, you stay and keep an eye on things. Tell this Tettius that he is invited to dine with me.’

‘Poor devil,’ Vindex muttered.

‘Well, I need to do something about that as well, with our distinguished guests coming before too long. But that’s for later. Now let’s see what the Dacians pretended was their best artillery when they handed it over.’