His will was a case in point. He had no wife or children, and no other family members to whom he wished to bequeath his estate. No one at Vindolanda knew much about Titus Annius’ background. Every detail of his funeral was set down. The centurion wanted no hired mourners and only the simplest procession to a spot near the road outside the porta praetoria, the main gates of the fort. ‘Let whoever come who chooses, and let a dozen of my boys see me off. Burn me, drink to cohors I Tungrorum and to the emperor, and tell my lads that I’ll be watching them and they had better never disgrace me by their turnout or conduct or I’ll come back and haunt them.’

A copy of the will was posted up outside the small praetorium where he had lived – a far more modest building that the one housing Cerialis. All day there were Tungrians gathered around it, half weeping and half laughing, those who were able reading the words out to the others. Titus Annius’ estate was considerable, and he left most of it as a fund to give a year’s pay to each widow or child left behind when one of his auxiliaries died going about his duty or from sickness. The recent losses meant that there would soon be plenty of calls on the legacy. One thousand denarii were set aside by special arrangement with Flora, who for the three days after the centurion’s death was to welcome without charge any Tungrian who knocked on her door. ‘Give the lads whatever they want. I want to hear humping as I make my way to the Elysian Fields.’

As Ferox watched the wrapped corpse burn, he wondered whether Titus Annius had got his wish. Cerialis was there, as was Crispinus, Aelius Brocchus, and Rufinus, the prefect of the Spaniards. The twelve picked Tungrians sparkled even on this drab, rainy morning, with every piece of metalwork polished like a mirror. Two of the men wore bandages from wounds taken on the day the centurion fell, and one of them limped as he carried the couch on which the body was laid. Around them, forty or fifty more men from the cohort watched. No one gave orders, but they stood in ranks and files, and all had found a reason to appear in their best uniforms. Quite a few Batavians had come as well, and there were civilians from the canabae. The centurion had said that no women were to attend, and this was obeyed, although several cloaked and hooded figures watched from a distance.