‘As I said, but these are not the ones we followed.’ Vindex and his men had found the tracks of one party the day before, following it and finding the bodies. Just before sunset they had seen another similar-sized group join the first. Now there was a third bunch, heading in the same direction and probably planning to meet, which meant a band fifty or sixty strong at least, and one that was well prepared. The bigger horses were a puzzle. The tracks looked more like army mounts than ponies.

‘Looks like they came past seven or eight hours ago,’ Ferox concluded as he went to his horse and grabbed the horns of the saddle. ‘While it was dark.’

‘Do you need help?’ Vindex said nastily as the centurion hesitated.

‘Mongrel,’ Ferox muttered and then grunted with effort as he half jumped and half pulled himself up.

The trail headed up the side of the valley and the centurion put the horse into a canter as he followed it, the gelding bounding up the slope with obvious joy. Vindex and the others followed. The signs were clear – hoof prints and flattened grass. It meant that whoever they were they were no longer afraid of pursuit. They must be close to whatever it was they wanted.

‘Get the beacon lit,’ Vindex called as he caught up with the centurion.

‘Not yet. I need to know more.’ They came out of the valley on to a hilltop and followed the trail east. It was easy to see, and shifted direction only to avoid the patches of bog and the steepest and most rocky ravines. They went for a mile across this rolling country, riding near the top of the ridges so that all the land to the south was spread before them. Anyone looking would see them, but Ferox did not care. People in these parts knew his felt hat. It was old and battered, the sort farmers and labourers wore in the lands around the shore of the Mediterranean, and a rare sight in Britannia, let alone in the north. Locals knew it and would recognise him long before they could see his face. The raiders would see them too, at least if they were still close and watching out. Like the beacon, the sight might make them nervous or more dangerous or both. Still, if he kept to the open country then there should be warning of any threat.

They dipped down into a valley before climbing on to the next long ridge. Ferox slowed to a walk to preserve the horses, then came on to the crest and stopped as he saw something that chilled his heart. Vindex was beside him and went pale. The Brigantian tugged out a bronze wheel of Taranis, which he wore on a cord beneath his mail shirt.

‘Lord of Thunder, protect us,’ he murmured, pressing the wheel to his lips.