Ferox could not help thinking that the high king had kept a foot in each camp until the very last moment. He had sent Gannascus and several hundred warriors to join the Stallion. If the Romans had blundered into that force instead of retreating when their cavalry were routed then it was hard to believe that the German and the rest would not have fought against them, especially if the Stallion’s bands had come round from behind and trapped them according to plan. The same was surely true if things had gone worse for the Romans in the battle. Tincommius’ men were cautious, but either way they would have ended up on the winning side. Ferox suspected that the legate sensed this truth, but was happy to ignore it since everything had turned out well. He was less sure that the tribune understood, for Crispinus was a harder man to read.

Neratius Marcellus had ordered Ferox to hunt down the wounded priest and bring him back as a captive or his head as a trophy. ‘Either way I want his head on a stake over the gates at Vindolanda,’ he told them. ‘That seems the right place, and it would be better if he was executed there, but it does not matter too much if you cannot bring him in alive.’ He had nodded to Flavius Cerialis, who was nursing a nasty wound to the side. The prefect winced as he smiled at the compliment.

‘The men would appreciate it, my lord. As would I.’

Ferox wondered whether the prefect was thinking about his murdered lover. Cerialis ought to recover as long as the wound did not turn bad. The centurion tried to dismiss from his mind a wild fantasy where the prefect died, leaving his widow free to remarry. It was nonsense and he knew it, for a senator’s daughter could condescend to marry an eques, but never a man of lower rank and far less means. Sulpicia Lepidina was as far beyond him as the stars in the heavens and in truth he could not really wish her husband ill. Cerialis had fought well, leading his Batavians even after he had taken the cut to his thigh and a heavy blow to the chest.

Aelius Brocchus was also among the wounded, although not so seriously, and none of the senior officers had been killed. The centurions had suffered more, as they always did, for their place was in front. A quarter were dead, half wounded, and the remainder struggling to run the units. Overall there were one hundred and fifty-two dead and almost double that number wounded. The Britons had lost a thousand dead, and another thousand too badly wounded to crawl or be carried away, who would be killed as soon as they were found by the parties of soldiers sent out on that grim duty.