‘I was too frightened, and it got worse as the rumours spread of druids and holy war. I thought they’d mark me down as a fanatic who had just become a barbarian again and turned on his friends like a wild beast. Truth be told, I thought that it was all over and that now I was over the rampart through no choice of my own, then I’d better stay there. If the lass would have come with me I’d have gone north as far as I could go, but she wouldn’t, and in the end I decided to go to you at the burgus, but by this time you’d gone up to the Vacomagi, so I followed. Got myself a pony, but didn’t find you until you were on the way back, and then didn’t fancy riding up to a turma of Batavians and handing myself in. Heard that there was some fine officer in charge and I got scared that he was the one at the tower and, even if he wasn’t, knew he would never take my word over one of his own class. So I followed, and you split off. You gave me the slip earlier, but I stumbled on these five and followed them. Reckon they’re Selgovae – coming from their lands anyway.’

Ferox tried to work out whether Venutius could have ridden off and reached his own people in time to send them, but decided that it was unlikely.

‘There’s little groups of men wandering everywhere at the moment, loads of them,’ Gannullius went on. ‘Men are daubing the horse on their heads and going to war.’

‘Can you describe the tribune at the tower?’ Ferox asked.

‘Not well, sir, I’m afraid. I wasn’t close.’

‘What can you tell me? It’s important.’

‘He wasn’t a big man. Quite dark.’ The soldier thought for a while. ‘Carried himself as if he owned the world,’ he added. ‘Mind you, a lot do that, but there was something different about this one. Didn’t waste any effort, even when he killed old Julianus.’

‘Would you recognise him if you saw him again?’

‘I think so, sir. Yes, I am sure of it, though I’m in no hurry to meet the bastard again, begging your pardon. You do believe me, sir, don’t you? Every word I’ve said is the truth. Haven’t hidden a thing.’

‘I know.’ Ferox hoped his smile was reassuring. ‘I believe you.’

Gannullius’ relief was obvious. ‘Lass said you would. I should have listened sooner.’

‘I believe you,’ the centurion told him, ‘but you know as well as I do that there are plenty who will not.’

The soldier’s shoulders slumped and he stared into the fire, eyes glassy. Perhaps he was imagining the likely punishment, stripped naked and clubbed to death by his former comrades, his disgrace permanently recorded on the cohort’s books.