‘Huh.’ Ferox prodded the corpse again with the toe of his boot.

‘He’s still dead,’ Vindex said.

‘Huh.’

Crescens appeared, coming from the small stable on the far side of the courtyard. There were four horses at the burgus, but one of the mares was not in good shape.

‘Good morning, curator,’ Ferox said, as if seeing Crescens for the first time that day. ‘How is the grey?’

‘The leg is coming on, but still lame.’ Crescens’ reply was confident, for he was a cavalryman and this was something that he did understand. ‘I would not trust her for more than a mile or two.’ That meant that Syracuse boasted just three horses fit for duty, for the centurion and the four cavalrymen among the stationarii, including the curator himself.

‘Today is the Nones?’ There was no more than the slightest trace of doubt in the centurion’s tone. He looked at Vindex, who said nothing.

‘No, sir. The third before the Ides,’ Crescens said, surprised that the centurion was fully six days out of reckoning. ‘In September, sir,’ he added maliciously.

‘Huh.’ Ferox was still trying to meet Vindex’s unflinching stare, as if Crescens was not there. ‘And you are sure that you need me?’

‘Yes, I need you. It will be easier to have a Roman with us, and you can follow a trail better than anyone I have ever met.’

‘Is it my fault that you don’t know many people?’ the centurion said with a shrug. ‘Are you truly certain?’

For the first time the Brigantian looked weary as he nodded. ‘I swear by the god my tribe swears by, and by Sun and Moon, that you must come.’

Ferox said nothing and did not even grunt. He started to sway once again, and they could see the effort it took for him to stop.

‘I also swear by our friendship that you should do this.’

Ferox sighed and seemed to sag. ‘Curator,’ he said, ‘have the other horses saddled and ready to leave. I’ll take Victor and you with me.’

As Crescens walked away Ferox spoke again, talking to the Brigantian.

‘We are not friends,’ the centurion said. ‘I just haven’t got around to killing you yet.’

I

IT WAS CLOSE to noon, only a few fat white clouds in an otherwise bright sky, and Ferox pulled the brim of his felt hat down to shade his eyes from the glare. He would have preferred rain and wind, weather suited to his mood, but the day was a fine one and he resented it, just as he resented everything else. At least his gelding was behaving, and he gave the horse a loose rein, trusting him to pick the best path down this rocky valley. Ferox needed to think, but each thought came grudgingly.