‘I guess we are all on the same side,’ the tribune said. He was bruised and bloodied, but his anger subsided when he saw Ferox’s expression. ‘Did you know all along that it was him?’ he asked.

‘I needed to be sure. You could not have been at the tower and out hunting with Cerialis on the day of the ambush, so that was in your favour. When he didn’t ask questions and just let me order your arrest and death I thought that he must have a lot to hide. The threat of the witness made him nervous.’

‘What if he was merely stupid?’

‘That was a risk I had to take, my lord.’

‘You had to take!’ Crispinus rubbed his sore wrists. His tongue flicked out to touch his cut mouth. He spat and there was blood in it.

‘Well, I could have just killed you both to be sure.’ Ferox patted his sword against his trousers. ‘If you like, I still can.’

‘Thank you, centurion, that will not be necessary. And your oath to my father?’

‘Still binds me. Unless it clashes with the one to the princeps.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me your plan?’ The tribune stared at the corpses all around them. ‘I guessed something was up. That’s why I babbled all that about Trajan not lasting the year. I could have helped more if I’d known what was going on.’

‘Was not sure I could trust you, my lord. Might have been hard for you to act surprised. This way it was natural and you were very convincing.’ Ferox rubbed his knuckles and smiled. ‘You take a punch well.’

Crispinus shook his head and did not seem to know what to say.

‘Do you want to bury this lot?’ Vindex did not sound enthusiastic at the prospect.

‘Leave ’em.’ Ferox waved to Gannascus as he and his warriors trotted away. ‘Now our protection has gone we had better not hang around. Let’s take his head and go. Do you want to do it, my lord?’

Crispinus found his sword and walked over to the pale corpse of the priest. He flexed his sword arm, looked down for a while and then stopped. ‘I am not sure how to do it.’

Ferox grabbed the body by its limed hair and hauled it up so that the dead priest was sitting. The body was no longer stiff, but it felt heavy and clumsy. He knew that the fighting would have taken the best edge off his sword and wished that he had an axe. It took three cuts using all his strength to do the job, and they were all flecked with dark blood, even after all the wounds the man had received during his slow death.

‘There you are. A keen edge and a strong arm,’ Ferox said. ‘They solve a lot of life’s problems.’

‘Not all,’ Crispinus replied. ‘Not the ones that really matter.’