Sabinus led the way, hoping that his disappointment did not show. They went down the two ladders, then out onto the main rampart and down the stairs. The fort’s defences were of earth and timber rather than turf, no doubt because the grass nearby was thin and the earth brittle, while the woods that so fascinated the centurion were handy. There were smells of any army base, of horses and sweat, damp leather and wood, overlaid with smoke. Everything was familiar to Ferox or anyone else who had soldiered for even a short time, not simply the scents and the sounds, but the layout. As they came down onto the flat they could see straight up the main street to the principia and other key buildings, just as you would anywhere else. Army bases tended to be almost, but not quite identical, and from Ferox’s experience the similarities could make it harder to remember the differences. Part of his mind was trying to settle the plan in his memory. That would only matter if he was wrong or if he was right, and survived the rest of the day.

The right-hand gate was open, so they went that way. Ferox glanced back when they were outside, at the big painted sign between the two arches announcing that the praesidium had been built by a vexillation of Legio I Minervia and another from II Adiutrix. He wondered whether this was a good omen. The men of the Second had built the tiny outpost in northern Britannia from which he had acted as regionarius for the best part of a decade. All in all it had been a happy, simpler time, left to his own devices to keep peace in his region. Still, the legionaries had made a shoddy job there, and he had to hope that they had been more diligent here.

‘You are no stranger to this part of the world, I am told?’ Sabinus once again tried to make conversation. They had to walk carefully, because the track was uneven where deep ruts had frozen solid. Someone had not bothered to maintain it properly before the winter freeze and that was sloppy.

‘It was a long time ago, when I was new to the army.’ Ferox felt a little guilty for his coldness towards the man. Sabinus seemed a decent officer and his eagerness to leave this place was obvious, which made it unfortunate that Ferox was carrying orders that would keep him here for a good while.

‘Is it true that you were at Tapae with Fuscus?’

Ferox nodded.

Sabinus searched for the right words. ‘That must have been rough?’

A commander killed along with most of his army, Ferox thought, yes, I guess you could say that. He had been in charge of the scouts and had tried to warn Fuscus, but no one had listened until it was too late. He had got away, with his own men and as many others as he could gather, just as he had got away a year earlier when the legate of Moesia had got himself chopped to pieces, and then a couple of years on when another legion marched to disaster. A philosopher, and for all that it was unlikely now a very good friend, on listening to the tale of his career suggested that it was proof of remarkable luck, or perhaps that the gods enjoyed watching him squirm. Ferox smiled at the memory, which pleased Sabinus, who took on most of the conversation as they walked past the double ditches, answering questions about the recent war against the Dacians.