TRIMONTIUM TOOK ITS name from the three peaks on the ridgeline above the fort. It was twice the size of Vindolanda and these days the northernmost garrison in all Britannia. Lying in the circle of the river, the brown waters high from last month’s rain, it looked like a town, the neat rows of buildings rendered and whitewashed, roofs either red tile or dark shingle. Apart from the rectangular fort with its curved corners, other ramparts extended out on three sides to enclose the canabae, with numbers of thatched round houses dotted among the Roman-style buildings. There was a village within bowshot of the ditch, several more out on the plains to the west, and an earth-walled hill fort up on the high ground. This was the very edge of the empire, and the end of the Eastern Road, but on the whole the Romans and the allied Votadini tribe got on well with each other.

It was a long ride from Bremenium on a drab day with a sea of brooding grey clouds overhead, but Crispinus was determined to make the trip in one stage and not to stop at the smaller fort that lay in between the two. All twenty-four Batavian troopers rode with them, and the tribune explained to Ferox that he had sent his letter to Cerialis with the regular courier who had left in the early hours.

‘He’s well mounted, will get a fresh horse every time he stops at a garrison, and will do the trip much faster. Besides, we may need every man we can get.’

‘Sir.’

The tribune scented scepticism. ‘Hercules’ balls, you really should trust, man!’ There was anger in his voice.

‘Of course, my lord,’ Ferox said and remembered something his grandfather was fond of saying. ‘A man who keeps asking you to trust him is always hiding something.’

As they approached Trimontium the setting sun appeared beneath the clouds and shone a reddish light across the fort, casting long shadows, and they were all cheered by the sight.

‘Wonder if a man can get a drink there,’ Vindex said, for once willing to set aside his dislike of crowded places.

Accommodation in the barracks and stabling for the horses and mules was waiting for them, all supervised by a cheerful tribune from Legio XX Valeria Victrix, who was in overall command of the mixed garrison of legionaries and auxiliaries at the base. His name was Attius Secundus and he entertained Crispinus and Ferox to a lavish meal before he and some slaves led them to a private bath-house.

‘The lads have a bigger one on the far side of the fort,’ he told them, ‘but someone had the nice idea of building this one for the senior staff and for any officials who pass through. We’ll probably meet a couple of them.’