‘It is fitting,’ a man said to him in Latin, and flashed a broad grin, the whiteness of his teeth all the brighter because his skin was a deep shade of brown unlike any of the others in the camp. ‘Chieftains talk and tell stories and will ask the Bad Flavius where he has been and what he has done.’

‘Why the bad?’ Vindex asked, but the man had already gone, called away by a scowling warrior. Another warrior, his sword belt and scabbard a deep red colour, matching his long tunic, offered the scout a bowl filled to the brim with milk, so he took it and drank, before passing it back and smiling in thanks. The young woman appeared and held out a smaller cup, this time filled with a bitter wine. Vindex drank deeply, for this was a welcome change, only handing it back when the giver must have begun to worry that none would be left. He gave the girl a big wink and she ignored him, heading off. A servant brought a platter of cheese and cuts of meat, so he took some and ate for a while. He began to pick up a few of the words for food, but otherwise the talk flowed past him. As the sun set and the stars filled the sky, there was more wine as well as mead and beer and as far as he could tell little of the conversation made much sense anymore. He saw the dark warrior a few times, but never close enough to speak. Ferox was still with the chieftains, and if they had drank as much as the rest it did not seem to have fuddled their wits for they talked on and on.

Vindex must have passed out like so many of the warriors, for he woke the next morning inside a tent. His head throbbed and he had no great urge to get up, so he lay there for some time until Ferox appeared.

‘Time to go,’ he said. ‘There is to be a hunt and we are invited as guests.’

Vindex groaned.

To his relief, the hunt began at a leisurely pace, and seemed more about taking a ride than pursuing game, as forty or so set off. The warriors rode horses decorated with ribbons, and many had donned their armour and wore swords on their hips. All had bows, and some carried quivering spears ten foot or so long.

They went south and west, heading away from the road and saw no sign of Romans. There were plenty of farmers, but none challenged the riders as they crossed over their land. Ferox rode at the head of the party, with the chieftains, while Vindex was gently led to the rear, where he was pleased to see the dark-skinned warrior.

‘How are you feeling?’ the man said, with another broad grin. ‘My head’s like thunder and I ought to be used to it by now.’

Vindex groaned, prompting a big laugh. Two other warriors, one with a golden beard and the other with a long brown moustache joined in, as did Vindex, rubbing his forehead in mock pain.