They were heading north-east, and whenever the rain stopped and the cloud lifted a little they could see the line of mountains to their left. On the next day they followed a ridge, passing a succession of old outposts.

‘Amazing how fast the grass covers everything,’ Crispinus said.

Ferox shrugged. ‘Ten years is a long time.’

Some farmers used the old ramparts as cattle pens. People were wary of them, but not unfriendly. When they stopped in the day to rest their horses, men would come and stare at them. The children were less bashful, and wandered into the little camp. They kept away from Vindex, at least until he began doling out pieces of biscuit, and seemed most fascinated by Crispinus, trying to touch him as he passed.

Ferox listened to their chatter and could not help chuckling. ‘They think you’re the Emperor of Rome and that it’s good luck to touch you because gold flows in your veins instead of blood.’

‘I’ve been trying to persuade women of that truth for years,’ the tribune joked, but seemed pleased with the attention.

The rain stopped the next day, but it was grey and cold, so that their breath steamed and at the end of each ride Ferox found his feet numb and painful when he dismounted. They kept passing abandoned outposts of Rome and finally came to a vast enclosure bigger than anything they had seen before.

‘The Twentieth Legion built this, although they never quite finished it,’ Ferox said. He could see the tribune gazing in astonishment at the vast remains of the base. ‘Now do you understand?’

‘I think so,’ the young aristocrat said, and for once he lacked his usual confidence and poise. ‘We were once strong for all to see and then we left. Why should they fear us now? Why should they deal with us?’

‘We – that is you – need to tell them why,’ the centurion said, gripping the tribune by the arm.

XVII

TINCOMMIUS DWELLED AT present within the ramparts of an old army base about the size of Vindolanda, and from a distance it did not look so different. Instead of the half-filled ditch and grassy rampart, men had toiled to rebuild the defences. There were timber towers over new gates, more towers at the corners, and a wooden parapet protecting the walkway. Sentries paced the walls or watched from the towers, and if few had helmets, even fewer armour, and their clothes and shields were of every colour, they still appeared vigilant.