‘He is the Lord of the valleys and mountains,’ the little man continued just when they thought that he had finished. ‘The Horn sounding on the hilltop, the Blade that flashes in the dawn, the Spear that flies true and strong, the Sky that covers the lands and brings rain, the Ram that brings plenty, and the Wise Judge of deep matters.’

Crispinus let out a long breath once he realised that the list was done. The little man limped over to the porch of the house. The door was low, so that even he was forced to duck as he went in. Ferox had almost to bend double, as did the trooper and the two warriors who followed.

It was brighter inside than he had expected, for a fire raged in a long trench in the middle of a wide floor and torches burned, mounted on iron holders or attached to the circle of posts near the edge of the great hall. Crispinus gasped in surprise at the sheer size of the place, the high ceiling dark with shadows and smoke, and the almost empty circle of floor around the fire. There was a single chair, high-backed and richly carved, and on it sat a boy of eight or nine, his hair the colour of pale gold tinged with red by the firelight.

The deep voice began again. ‘Welcome to the Hall of Tincommius, High King of the Vacomagi and Venicones, Overlord of the Caledonians, the Red Branch and the Tall Tree, the Great Bull of Camulos, the Mountain that stands alone in the storm, the Bloody Sword and the Unpierced Shield—’

‘I think that is enough for now.’ The clean-shaven warrior stepped in front of them, and he also spoke in Latin, though with a lilting accent than made ordinary speech almost like verse. He had given his spear and shield to the other man, and now took off his helmet and ran a hand through his well-oiled black hair. ‘I am Tincommius, and I cannot remember all the rest of that stuff, nor do I care to listen to it all again. The gods alone know how he does. That’s if he really does. Often I wonder whether he makes half of it up. Haven’t a clue where some of those titles come from. Do I look like a ram to you?’