‘An oath to them? What does that matter? Do you know that even now some of them send us arms and information, that they even kill their own when we ask? They are filth, worthless in every way. Rome is a poison killing the whole world and the world will die if it is not stopped now.’ The man was getting wilder, his voice louder, and the first spell was broken. ‘Be free of them, boy. Leave them and be free of oaths to the unworthy.’

Ferox did not love Rome, but neither did he put much store in prophecies and predictions of doom. There was much about the empire that was rotten and much that sickened him. Honesty forced him to admit that there was also much he hated about the way the tribes lived and preyed on each other and he had known plenty of chieftains as ruthless, cruel and treacherous as the worst emperors. He suspected that Tincommius was one of them, otherwise he doubted that the man would have proved so successful. The same was doubtless true of this druid.

‘There was an old man and boy,’ Ferox said, not wanting to discuss the evils of Rome. ‘Men called him the Goat Man. I never knew the boy’s name. You must have met them or heard of them.’

‘What of it?’ Acco frowned. ‘They are gone now and do not matter.’

‘Yes, they are dead. The Stallion’s men buried the boy alive.’

‘I was not there,’ the druid said. ‘But I lived with your kin and stood with them as they fought Rome. Your grandfather fought with all the cruelty of your people. Evil things must be done in war.’

Ferox sighed. There was no point in trying to explain to a man like this. The druid’s hatred burned less brightly than the Stallion’s, but it had the strong deep heat of iron worked in a forge. The old man could see nothing beyond his own path, and that was paved with blood and ruin.

‘I am a centurion of Rome, sworn to serve the city and the emperor,’ Ferox said.

‘Then I cannot save you.’ The beggar or great druid or whoever this was sounded disappointed and sad. ‘And you could have served us so well. You are Flavius Ferox indeed and no longer anyone else. I am sorry. Soon all will be blood and fire and you will perish. I have failed your grandfather.’ The old man stalked off into the night.

For a moment Ferox nearly followed. He did not remember his father, for he had been a babe in arms when he was killed, and part of him wanted to learn more about what sort of man he had been. Yet he knew that it would not change anything.

He went back to the feast and drank beside the German. Eventually they both passed out.

XIX