They went north along the road, making good progress on a day of clear sunshine. A thought nagged at Ferox as he rode, just in the back of his mind and too vague to pin down. Someone had just done or said something strange when they set out, but he had not really been paying attention and could not remember what. When the horses had warmed up they trotted for some time, but even the jogging motion failed to help his thoughts. After an hour they dismounted and marched. They halted twice to rest and water the animals, and to eat a meal of biscuit and salted bacon. Masclus was a quiet man who never seemed to need to shout, and although no more than twenty-five had the authority of a much older officer. Ferox felt that the decurion was a good choice to command the escort.

Even Vindex expressed grudging approval. He and his men spent most of the day riding ahead and behind the column. Not that there should be any danger yet, but Masclus had suggested without prompting that it was wise to get into good habits from the start. When Vindex came back to report that the road was clear and that they would reach Bremenium before sunset, the decurion beckoned to one of the slaves who had food to give to the scout and more bundles of biscuit and meat waiting for his men when they returned.

They reached the fort at Bremenium as the sun began to set and the western skies were ablaze with colour. Vindex and his men had closed with the column, and he reported to the three officers. Progress had been good, the day a pleasant one, and if they were tired all were united in a determination not to show it to the garrison of this base.

‘Good lad, that one,’ Vindex said as they watched Masclus and Crispinus ride forward to report to the commander of the guard at the towering porta praetoria. ‘Even if he is a bit oily.’

‘You like anyone who feeds you. Why oily?’

‘Well, smarmy then. Bit of a crawler. Remember how he called the prefect his king?’

‘Omnes ad stercus!’ Ferox spat the words with such violence that his horse shied. The troopers looked at him in surprise. That was it – that was what he had been trying to remember. Dark fear grew within him as he remembered the big German warrior demanding that he hand over the ‘queen’. He had a vague memory of something he had heard about the Batavians, but he needed to find a way to raise the subject with delicacy and wondered how to do it.

‘So is Prefect Cerialis your king or what?’ Vindex asked the decurion as they rode up the main street of the camp. Ferox sighed.