Ferox drew his dagger and started cutting the rope tying the Treviran’s corpse above the fire. ‘Someone has been giving or selling swords and other gear to Tincommius.’ He glanced at their escorts, wondering whether any spoke Latin, not that it mattered now. ‘I reckon the priest’s men decided that they could put them to better use. And they’ve started killing any Roman they can find. These two and their slaves were in the wrong place at the wrong moment and this is what happened. We don’t need to leave them up there as proof that Romans can be killed without fear, do we?’

‘I see.’ Crispinus dismounted. ‘Let me help.’

They scraped a long shallow hole and laid all five corpses in it, before covering them with soil and any stones they could find. Gannascus, Venutius and the others watched with mild interest for a while, before attending to their horses and taking a bit of food. Only the young Epaticcus helped, eagerly following Ferox and doing whatever he did.

No one talked much for the rest of the day, and even the Germans were subdued, until the clouds broke up and they saw the sun for the last part of the afternoon. A clear sky meant a cold night, but they found enough kindling and wood to make a couple of good fires. Better still, they were given two sheep by the headman from the nearest cluster of farms. These were quickly killed and butchered, one of Venutius’ men showing great skill in the task. Ferox enjoyed the meal, although part of him wished they had cooked them in the fashion of his own tribe, tossing the entire animal on to a hot fire, and cutting and butchering it after it was cooked. It had been a long time since he had eaten mutton roasted that way and he missed it.

The headman brought news that was not good. The two merchants and their slaves were not the only victims of the Stallion’s rampage. He had heard of other traders caught and tortured to death, some of them local men whose only fault was to do business with the Romans.

‘Men say that we all must choose,’ the headman told them, ‘to join with the gods and cleanse the land or to be slaughtered along with the Roman defilers.’ He was old with leathery skin and little hair left on his wrinkled head. Two fingers were missing on his right hand from some old injury, and his left leg was stiff. ‘I tell them that it is folly, but the young do not understand and they listen too well to the promise of a great magic. A king and a queen’s blood will summon the strength of the gods and an army from the Otherworld to fight alongside them. It will happen at Samhain, so he says, and many believe him.’