‘Have we not?’ Vindex looked around him. ‘Anyway, isn’t that all the more reason to give the alarm? They could be anywhere.’ The black smoke of the beacon was visible for many miles and informed army and civilians alike that trouble was abroad. Once it was seen, riders would gallop from the garrisons to find out was happening, strong patrols would go out along the main routes and even larger forces prepare to move as soon as detailed reports came in. It warned the attackers just as it warned everyone else, letting them know that they were hunted, and that the danger would steadily increase for every hour they remained in the area.

‘Not yet.’ Ferox repeated his answer to the earlier request. The first time Vindex had dropped back and followed with the others. Now he said no more, but kept riding alongside the centurion.

Ferox was tempted, for there was certainly something not right. They had passed several farms and the people in them were courteous, nodding or waving at them as they went by. Yet they looked watchful, as if unsure what was happening and sensing danger. They met some drovers urging a small herd onwards in quite a hurry, but the men claimed to have seen and heard nothing untoward. To Ferox their faces were even more wary than men’s faces often were when confronted by Romans asking questions. He suspected that if his mind were not so dulled by his hangover he would have seen more.

There were a few signs by the wayside of the sort used by the tribes to send simple messages. Among the Textoverdi of these lands, one stone piled on another meant that there were warriors or soldiers abroad, and he had seen several of these that looked fresh. A mile or so back there were three flat stones piled on top of each other, the highest one much lighter coloured than the others. That meant a large force of warriors, well armed, with the bright stone marking them as enemies, although in truth some of the locals signified the Roman army in that way. It meant that the group were not Textoverdi, and probably not from one of the other Brigantian clans like Vindex’s Carvetii. Ferox wished that he had taken the time to read the fresh bundle of letters back at Syracuse and to check through the latest orders as that should have told him if a large army patrol or other detachment was in the area. He doubted that there was, as the nearest garrisons were stretched pretty thin these days, but it was still just summer, the time for training and shows of force, so it was possible that something was on.