The centurion touched the big wooden pommel of his sword, feeling the runnels carved into it. He wore his sword on the left as a mark of his rank, and also because it was an old-fashioned long blade and was easier to draw from that side.

‘I need you to take the scouts up to the top of the ridge.’ He pointed ahead, to the hilltop above the broken country. ‘The sight of you may worry them if they are waiting to strike. There are too many of them for us to take, so you watch what happens. We need to know who they are and where they’ve come from. Follow them when it’s all over. Catch one if you can, but do not take any daft risks. What you can learn is more important than anything you can do. Understand?’

Vindex nodded. ‘And what will you be doing?’

‘Taking a closer look.’

The Brigantian grunted and walked his horse over to his men. Ferox pulled off the felt hat and tossed it away. Twisting around in the saddle, he unfastened the helmet from where it was tied. As usual Philo had left the woollen hat inside. He pulled it on, put the helmet on top and tied up the leather thong to hold the ends of the cheek pieces together. It had been weeks since he had last worn it, but after thirteen years with the legions the heavy helmet still felt as naturally a part of him as his hair.

Ferox walked his horse downhill towards the road. His mind felt clear and calm, though easy because the decision was made and that was that. He had left the alarm too late, and this was his region. All his warnings in the past would not help because they could not change his mistake now. There was probably someone important in the carriage, and he could not let whoever it was die without trying to warn them. Even that might not be enough, and it would be all his superiors needed to recommend his dismissal.

His head no longer throbbed, and when he drained the last of the posca from its skin his mouth felt moist and fresh. When they had forced him awake and made him ride out he had felt as if the world was about to end. The black mood of the last days engulfed him once more and he no longer cared that much if it did. Ferox rode down the hill.

‘You forgot your hat,’ Vindex said cheerfully, coming alongside, holding the battered old hat in his hand.

‘I gave you orders.’

‘No one gives orders to the Carvetii.’

The two men kept at a steady pace.

‘It is important,’ the centurion said. ‘We will need to learn as much as we can.’

‘I told Brennus to take charge. He will do what he’s told.’

‘I thought no one gave orders to the Carvetii?’