IT WAS A nervous night in a cold camp, the rain turning into a downpour that doused fires and made it hard to see very far or hear any movement until it was close. Crispinus and the other senior officers slept very little, all of them visiting the sentries in each of the four watches. Early in the third watch there was a scare from the picket in front of the northern entrance to the camp.

‘There’s something out there, sir.’ The Tungrian in charge of the six-man picket was certain. ‘Something moving towards us.’

Crispinus and the other equestrian officers had heard the call and run to see what was happening. They squinted as they tried to see in spite of the driving rain.

‘There are a lot of them.’ Cerialis had almost to shout into the tribune’s ear to be heard above the howling wind. ‘Look, up there!’ He pointed. ‘We should sound the alarm.’

Crispinus hesitated, and then jumped when a hooded and cloaked figure slid out of the darkness and came up beside him. He fumbled as he tried to grab the wet handgrip of his sword.

‘I’m on your side, tribune,’ Ferox said, throwing back the hood and grinning.

‘Have you been out there?’ Crispinus was breathing hard, his face so battered by the rain that it felt numb.

‘Just took a little walk.’

‘They’re coming closer!’ Cerialis shouted again, but by some chance the wind slackened and his voice sounded terribly loud.

‘It’s cows,’ Ferox said. ‘The warriors have all gone to shelter and I don’t blame ’em. It’s just a herd of cows.’ He was feeling happy, after testing himself to see whether he could still move quietly in the darkness. Silurian boys were taught stealth and concealment from infancy, to help them hunt game and enemies alike, but he knew that he was out of practice. In truth the main danger on a night like this was stumbling into someone else rather than being spotted from a distance.

The rain stopped late in the night, and in a grey, sunless dawn the column prepared to move. There was no sign of the Selgovae, apart from a thin tendril of smoke rising from one of the hearths in a farm half a mile away, but there was also no sign of a horse and mule, taken from inside the camp. The animals had simply vanished, and no one seemed convinced when Ferox assured them that the creatures had been stolen.

‘But how did they do it?’ Crispinus demanded, since all his sentries swore that they had seen nothing.

‘Why is as big a question,’ Brocchus suggested. ‘Do they mean to break the agreement?’