‘Epaticcus,’ she said. ‘You really do not know, do you?’

He shook his head.

‘Epaticcus is foster son to Venutius of the Selgovae. Both are here now, and the boy stood behind the chieftain at the feast. That was his first battle, and all say that he fought with courage and also that he was at your mercy, but that you spared him and told him to go with honour. Since he proved his courage he is at last fit to appear in his father’s presence. Tincommius sent him away seven years ago.’

Ferox struggled to remember the fight at the fort and the scrambling retreat down the valley side, but like most battles it had faded into a few memories of fear and exultation. ‘I think I told him to piss off.’ He laughed at the thought. ‘But he did fight well and that is why I preferred not to kill him. I honestly did not know who he was, so cannot boast of it as a favour.’

‘That is what we thought, which only makes the obligation to you all the deeper. Tincommius is grateful and thinks that you are a man to trust. I believe that he is right, and I am glad that we have met and spoken.’

‘And I am glad that you sleep so deeply,’ he replied and his mischief was rewarded with a moment of uncertainty and doubt in this confident young woman. It did not last.

‘Farewell, centurion. We shall never be alone again.’

‘Farewell, Galla.’

She left, crouching down to go through the low doorway and closing the door behind her. He let out a long breath and just lay, staring up at the roof. To his surprise his head felt clear and calm and he had no desire for any drink other than spring water or some posca.

After a while the door opened and a man came through, bent almost double. It was Vindex. It would have to be Vindex.

‘Good night?’ the Brigantian said, baring his big teeth.

XX

THE HIGH KING went hunting that day and the Romans were not invited.

‘Is it a snub?’ Crispinus asked as they ate the food brought to them by servants. It was early afternoon, with a bitter wind, and they were all glad to sit inside the house that the tribune had reclaimed for his own use.

‘In other words, no poaching,’ Vindex muttered when Ferox told him. As they took their meal, Ferox told the others what had happened from the moment the Brigantian had passed out at the feast. He spoke of the priest’s rage, and of the great druid disguised as a beggar.

‘Bugger me,’ Vindex cut in at this point. ‘Suppose at least the blessing ought to be worth something given all the money I gave the old liar. I ought to be the luckiest man in the world.’