Ferox drove himself hard and, as always when he was kept busy, had no urge to drink more than was needed to slake a thirst. Her face still came to him, hazier now after all these years, but still with the dark eyes, olive skin and raven-black hair. The memories made him sad, but sometimes he pictured another woman, blonde, fair-skinned and blue-eyed, and there was little similarity in looks but something akin in their essence, that sense of life and joy. Sulpicia Lepidina puzzled him, not least because if all Crispinus had said was true then it was odd to find so distinguished a lady married to a mere equestrian.

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.