They rode west, the sun low in the sky, turning the clouds pink and gold ahead of them. Vindex had kept his hat through all the day and Ferox was glad to have it back and shade his eyes from the dazzling light. A dozen big Batavians went ahead of the carriage, with another twenty bringing up the rear. The lady rode bareback, having given the coach to the two wounded troopers and her maid – the latter briefly reluctant to be confined in the car with two soldiers, however enfeebled by injury. The legionaries had taken the loose door off rather than let it hang, so her mistress had persuaded her that it was safe. Whenever Sulpicia Lepidina passed one of the Batavians he raised hand to forehead and then touched it over his heart. Ferox could see that they were devoted to her, no doubt helped by her kindness to their comrades, especially the one-eyed veteran Longinus.

For a while she rode alongside the carriage, talking to her maid and the injured men. Crispinus kept two lengths behind, still saying nothing to Ferox and Vindex as they followed. After a while the lady laughed, throwing her head back so that her long hair shook. Most of the soldiers grinned even though they had no idea of the source of her mirth. Soon afterwards she wheeled her horse around and came back, acknowledging Crispinus with a nod but passing him. Much to Ferox’s amazement she turned the mare again to fall in alongside him.

‘My lady,’ he said, dipping his head and trying to avoid her gaze. He felt shabby and brutish alongside this golden woman, and deeply uncomfortable as she rode in silence next to him.

‘M-my lady,’ he stammered the words again. ‘I must… That is to say, I wish to apologise for my conduct earlier.’

She laughed, head going back once again and hair glistening red in the light of the setting sun. Ferox looked at her, seeing a face so full of life that it was infectious.

‘Am I to understand that you are apologising for saving my honour or life or both?’ Her teeth were very white, her lips curling back as she chuckled. ‘Is it such a source of regret? I suppose you could always hope that we are attacked again, so that you can stand aside and do nothing.’

Crispinus turned around in the saddle and winked at him.

‘I did not mean—’ Ferox broke off, finding her amusement infectious. ‘You must forgive my clumsiness and the boorish way I treated you earlier on.’

‘Oh, that,’ she said. ‘It was a little unusual, that is true. Not quite what I expect from a respectable army officer. You are respectable, I take it?’

‘Thoroughly.’