‘No.’ Ferox wondered where the lad had got the stuff, and thought it might be best not to ask. It was obviously expensive and unless the boy had raided his purse he could not have bought it. In the past he had wondered whether Philo had a flexible approach to the concept of property, hence his concern about the ‘borrowed’ toga.

He was glad that Vindex was not there, for the Brigantian would no doubt have found all this very funny. He was out somewhere in the fort, probably at one of the small taverns inside the walls. Ferox had warned him not to go out to the canabae in case the guards were reluctant to let him back in.

‘It must be time by now?’ he asked, rubbing his chin.

‘Almost, my lord. Although if you wish it there would be time for another shave.’

‘It’s fine.’ Ferox ignored the doubting look. He had been shaved this morning and again a few hours ago, so that even his dark stubble ought not to be showing again so soon.

‘As you will, my lord,’ Philo said, bearing another of life’s disappointments with dignity. ‘The rain has stopped and it is a clear night,’ he added with satisfaction. Ferox wondered whether the boy had done some deal with his Jewish god. At least it made the walk to the praetorium more pleasant, following the walkway of laid planks running alongside the buildings. Vindolanda was a damp place and after the rain the roads were muddy. Philo yelped in horror when the centurion stepped in a puddle and dirty water lightly spattered his shoes and legs.

The prefect’s house was large, grander than some of the aristocrats’ houses he remembered from his schooldays in Lugdunum. Only a few cracked patches on the rendering of the outside wall betrayed its construction in timber rather than stone. When he was ushered into the porch it proved to be a large room, with polished plank floorboards rather than the straw-covered earth of the barrack blocks. The walls were plastered and painted in panels showing simple rural scenes. Cerialis was there to greet him with warmth, and the other male guests were also waiting. Philo gave his master a reproving look, before being taken off to wherever he and the other servants accompanying the visitors would wait until the end of the night.