Gannascus and several dozen warriors were practising in an open space, throwing javelins and fencing with each other. All were big men, if only one or two as big as their giant of a leader, and they were markedly thicker set than the local tribesmen. A lot of them were blond or red-haired, but that was not uncommon in these parts, even if it was unusual to sport such thick beards and long hair. Every man had an army-issue sword at his belt.

‘I understood that it is against the law to trade in weapons beyond the frontier,’ Crispinus observed, sticking to Latin so as not to cause offence.

‘It is, but people find a way.’ Ferox thought back to the Treviran merchant they had met at Trimontium, and how the man had not wanted to say what he had sold to Tincommius. ‘A lot of stores of all kinds went missing when we pulled out of the bases up here. It always happens. People make mistakes, or they try to cover them up, and there’s always someone up to making a quick profit by selling contraband to the locals.’

‘Why, think of that,’ Vindex added sarcastically. ‘A dishonest Roman, whatever is the world coming to?’

‘Or someone is giving arms to the king already,’ Crispinus suggested, ignoring the Brigantian.

‘Perhaps,’ Ferox said. ‘Then there’s always deserters. A man who goes over the wall with all his gear is a man likely to find a welcome up here. You saw the posts?’ Earlier on they had passed another open patch and seen two posts like the one outside Syracuse. Army methods of training suggested former soldiers serving the king – no doubt men who chose to keep out of sight while the Roman envoys were here.

As they watched, a few more Germans appeared carrying a crude straw figure of a man strapped to an upright stake, which they drove into the ground at the foot of the rampart. The effigy was dressed in an old Roman helmet and the segmented cuirass sported by legionaries. A pair of tall warriors carrying bows as tall as themselves came to stand near them, while the rest moved to either side to watch. Each planted five arrows in the grass at their feet, before stringing their bows. They were simple, made from a single piece of timber, but Ferox saw the men strain to hook the strings in place. The army used smaller bows, with several types of wood glued together and reinforced with animal horn, and these looked crude by comparison.