Ferox listened, and had to admit that the tribune gave an accurate report, including the provision of an escort and discovery of the murdered merchants. ‘The yew tree is sacred to druids,’ he said, and, if that was not quite the way Ferox would have explained it, it was good enough for this audience. The tribune spoke of how and why Ferox and Vindex left them, then described his journey to Trimontium, shadowed and then harassed by warriors on horseback. The garrison had lost a number of men to ambushes as detachments moved through the country. One wood-gathering party was long overdue and no news had come of them.

‘They are dead,’ Ferox cut in. ‘We found the bodies and the burned carts.’

‘I suspected as much,’ Marcellus said, his tone one of mild regret. ‘Continue please, Crispinus.’

The tribune did not have much more to say. Trimontium’s garrison was well enough provisioned to survive a blockade for some time. At the moment the chieftain from the hill fort and other local elders were assuring the Romans of their goodwill. ‘It is hard to be sure how long that will last,’ he finished.

‘As long as we show ourselves to be strong, and good friends.’ Neratius Marcellus had forced himself to keep still while listening to the report, but once it was over he resumed his pacing. He spoke of the attack on the praetorium here at Vindolanda, ignoring the attempt to murder the trooper Longinus. Ferox wondered whether the provincial legate knew who the old soldier really was. As Marcellus told the story it was part of the greater conspiracy led by the two priests, men who wanted to rouse loyal provincials as well as allied tribes to turn against Rome. There were soldiers – or men dressed as soldiers – as well as some warriors among the attackers and they knew a lot about the fort. It was not known whether the Britons serving with the Tungrians were deserters, traitors or had been killed by the attackers and their bodies hidden.

‘The aim was to kill or take the prefect and his esteemed wife, the clarissima Sulpicia Lepidina,’ Marcellus said, his face grim. ‘This prophecy of theirs, which relied upon a disgusting sacrifice of a distinguished man and woman, led them to carry out this impudent and vicious raid.’

Although he was used to it after all this time, Ferox was still surprised by the tendency of wealthy Romans to launch into rhetoric and turn everything into an oration.

‘They failed.’ Marcellus slapped his fist into his palm. ‘The prefect and his wife are safe due to the courage and quick thinking of the garrison and the timely warning of the Tribune Crispinus with the aid of the regionarius. Alas, an innocent woman was abducted. We suspect in error. May I presume, Flavius Ferox, that there is no good news of the unfortunate victim?’