Ferox felt a chill as he heard the man’s assurance. The festival began at sunset in three days’ time. As they ate he drew Vindex aside. ‘If the tribune lets me, I want to do something very foolish.’

The Brigantian grinned, the lines of his face even harsher than usual in the glow of the fires. ‘So naturally you thought of me,’ he said. ‘Lovely.’

‘I will not command you to go.’

‘Wouldn’t take a command anyway. I am of the Carvetii. But I’ll come as a friend, if you need me.’

‘We’re not friends,’ Ferox began, and then found that he was laughing.

Crispinus was not keen when he heard that the centurion wanted to leave them and ride hard to get to Vindolanda.

‘I can travel much faster if I leave the main tracks and go as straight as I can. They need to be warned,’ Ferox insisted. ‘Your letter may not be enough.’

‘Letter?’ The tribune looked puzzled and then seemed to remember. ‘Of course, I had quite forgotten. It should have got there, though.’ He began to waver.

‘You do not need me, my lord, and if I can get there in time I might make a difference.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Do you want to see her hanging from a yew tree like those merchants, or burned like this mutton?’

Crispinus stared in sudden distaste at the meat. ‘Very well, centurion.’

They set out an hour later, as the camp began to settle down for the night, and they took Snow and Frost with them as spare mounts. They were close enough to the lands they knew well to find their way without much difficulty and when a waning moon rose the country was easy to see in its silver light. They rode for three hours, changed horses, and then rode for another three before they rested and ate a little food. As a red sun started to rise they set out again.

At first they rode through country dotted with farms, and everywhere there was the smell of blood and fire as flocks and herds were culled to provide meat for the winter. It was the smell of Samhain, the beginning of the lean and cold months, and for the first time Ferox found it to be sinister. People were nervous, and whenever they stopped they spoke of the older boys and younger men leaving to join the great war. They saw plenty of them striding away, heading in the direction of rimontium.

‘Hope the tribune gets through,’ Ferox said.

Vindex snorted. ‘Yes, there’s only fifty or sixty of them.’

‘You did not have to come.’

‘You did not have to ask me.’