It lay in one of the enclosed areas of civilian occupation, and was itself isolated from the rest by its own rampart on which sentries stood watch. ‘Nice to have a bit of privacy,’ Secundus said happily as he gave a casual wave to a saluting legionary. ‘Evening, Longus.’

A paved path took them to the main entrance of a long stone building, the walls left bare rather than rendered, perhaps to show off the fact that they were stone rather than wattle and daub. They found three occupants being massaged by slaves after completing their bath. One was the plump imperial freedman Vegetus, along with a colleague, a little taller and even fatter, who also worked for the procurator of the province and supervised the collection of taxes and the private contractors hired by the state. With them was a negotiator, a businessman who undertook some contracts to supply clothing and mounts to the army, as well as carrying out plenty of trade on his own account. He was a Treviran with the accent of the Rhineland, but had been in this part of the world for years, spending a lot of time in the far north. Ferox thought that there was something familiar about the man, but could not remember where they had met. There was something about his thin hands, the long fingers engrained with dirt even after washing that sparked a memory.

‘Similis is a splendid fellow,’ Vegetus assured them, patting the merchant with one plump paw. ‘Must be ten years since we first met and I do not regret a day of it.’ The freedman’s wife was not with him on this trip. ‘It’s a bit bleak up here, and she has picked up a cold. The Lady Sulpicia Lepidina’ – the man glowed with pride as he mentioned so eminent an acquaintance – ‘graciously offered an invitation for my dear wife to stay in her house until I return.’

No doubt Cerialis was all in favour of such generosity.

Ferox asked Similis whether he knew anything about Tincommius, and could sense the man balancing whether he would gain or lose from answering the question, and giving up each snippet of information as if it caused him physical pain. Yes, he had met the new high king, but could not claim to know him well. His rise was recent, a mixture of brute force and considerable effort in winning friends and allies. ‘He’s got three wives, has daughters married off to other chieftains in his tribe and further afield, and sons out to fosterage. He also welcomes exiles and their followers, so that he has more warriors at his beck and call than any chief anyone can remember.’

‘What about priests?’ Crispinus cut in. Ferox saw the man’s eyes close as if curtains were shut across a window and wished that the aristocrat had left the matter to him.