That was one mystery, but not the foremost in his mind. Cerialis had chased the raiders for two days before losing their trail altogether. By then his Batavians were running short of hard tack and salted bacon for the men and barley for the horses, so they returned to Vindolanda with nothing to show for their pains. The detachment from Coria was better prepared to take the field and had gone further, pushing well north into the lands of the Selgovae and Votadini. Even so they had not caught up with any of the raiders and had ended up coming back down the Eastern Road with nothing to show for all their hard riding. No word had yet come from the Brigantian scouts, although Vindex had ridden after them in spite of his injuries.

‘Go on then and kill yourself,’ Ferox told him as he left. ‘At least it will save me the trouble.’ The Brigantian had kept the poultice damp and tied on tightly and claimed that he felt fine.

The raiders had got away, avoiding roads and outstripping the pursuit. They were well mounted – even bringing spare horses – and well prepared. They had also taken nothing that might slow them down. All they had looted was some weapons, some horses and a few heads as trophies. It was not much of a haul, and Claudius Super was hailing the raid’s repulse as a great victory, ignoring the dead Batavians – and the men at the tower.

By the time Ferox had returned to the tower in daylight a party had come to clear up and the ground was even more disturbed. Even so he was sure that there were no tracks from a group like the raiders they had followed on the day of the ambush. There were prints from half a dozen or so army horses, heavily burdened with their riders and gear. Whoever had killed the little garrison had not had to force their way in. Everything pointed to the killers being soldiers – or looking the part of soldiers – and being let inside to unleash sudden violence. The seventh man from the tower was still missing. Four of the corpses had been recognised, and the Briton was not among them, nor was he thought likely to be either of the remaining corpses, given that they were dark-skinned and stocky. They should know soon when men came from his unit to look at the remains.

Ferox had not been able to find the track made by the horsemen as they left the tower because there were too many trails from the frequent patrols passing this place. In spite of a careful search he could see no sign that they had gone east to join the raiders. Yet a coincidence was hard to accept. Someone had slaughtered the men at the beacon on the very day that the raiders struck. Only Victor’s quick thinking and some luck had allowed the alarm to be raised at all.