Brasus was not surprised by the warrior’s lack of interest. He would have to get word to the merchant to find out more or to look himself when he went back that way. It would be nice to know when the Romans’ great project would be complete, but it was not crucial for the king’s plan.

‘Tell me about this Roman?’ he asked instead.

‘The Bad Flavios? He came, he rode with us and feasted. None challenged him for his life, so he left us.’

The clipped manner of speaking of the Roxolani and their kin could be irritating at times, and he had to work to find out what he wanted to know. The centurion had ridden willingly to meet the hunting party, bringing just a single warrior. He had talked to the chiefs for hours and they had judged that he was the same man some of them had known almost twenty years ago. He had not asked for anything, which was surprising, nor had he raised the question of the clans’ alliances with Rome.

‘He is a warrior,’ the Sarmatian said. ‘A bad man as his name proclaims. His friend is also a man.’

‘Some of the Romanoi are worthy foes, but enemies still.’

‘They are not us,’ the Sarmatian conceded.

Brasus did not bother to point out that neither were the Dacians. The Roxolani cleaved to their brothers, their families, their kin and their clan, and their chiefs commanded because warriors chose to obey. They were brave, wild, greedy, fickle and great liars, but they could be useful. ‘Will your people answer when my king calls for them?’

‘Maybe.’

‘The Getae and Celtoi will follow the king, and the Bastarnae, as well as many peoples in distant lands. And once Rome has gone you may live as you will.’

The warrior sniffed. ‘To be a Roxolan is to live as each man wills. No one can give us that or take it away.’

‘So what will your chieftains do when the time comes? What will they and each warrior choose to do?’

‘As it pleases them, and as it pleases each man. We have no love for Rome.’

That was encouraging. ‘The Romans have few shepherds to guard many sheep, and the sheep are fat and rich. This will be a good war.’

‘Then it will please us to fight with your king and his warriors.’

‘Good. That will please my king, just as it warms my own heart.’ He raised his hand to his shoulder. ‘Ride as free as the wind, my friend. And soon let us ride side by side and hear the terror of our enemies.’

‘Until that time.’

Brasus rode alone through the night and was pleased that it took a long while for the glow off the clouds to fade altogether. He had met with many of the clan leaders in recent months, even visiting the same group just days before Ferox arrived, and there were friends of the king in many bands. He was encouraged and hopeful, if not fool enough to place absolute trust in any Sarmatian. At the very least there was little sign that they would join the Romans, so the Romans would worry that the Roxolani might ride with Decebalus or might just attack on their own while the empire was facing the bigger challenge of Dacia. Either way it should help, pinning garrisons in place and keeping the enemy spread out so that their defences were weak.