‘People remember, especially down south,’ Rufinus assured them. ‘My father was in the province then and saw what those bastards did. Women impaled, mutilated.’ The Trinovantes had joined the Iceni and other rebels, sacking three cities and massacring everyone they caught, whether Roman or just from another tribe.

‘Well, a one-man rebellion by a soldier sounds unlikely,’ Cerialis concluded. ‘We must hope to find him or at least discover what happened. However, there are concerning signs of priests and magicians stirring up the tribes here in the north.’

Ferox explained what he had seen and heard, speaking of the shadowy figure of the druid, and his guess that the priest known as the Stallion had led the ambush. He did his best to make them understand the difference between the two holy men, and how the tribes feared men of power and magic even if they did not like them. Claudius Super kept interrupting, scoffing at his fears, and Ferox suspected that even the more sympathetic ones in the room did not understand. He pressed on, but kept back his suspicion of treachery in high places. If for the moment they wanted to believe that it was the raiders who had wiped out the men at the tower then let them. He had one surprise, and waited until the end in the hope of shocking them and at least making them cautious. ‘The ambush of the Lady Sulpicia Lepidina was no accident, but part of a deliberate plan, of that I am sure.’

Claudius Super made a scoffing sound and several of the others looked doubtful. These were wild barbarians on the prowl for prey, any prey, not some organised army capable of planning.

‘I have no doubt at all,’ Ferox went on. ‘The captive taken by the Brigantes told them that they wanted to take the noble lady alive, lead her back north and burn her in the fire.’

The room went so quiet that Ferox could hear the sound of the lesson going on in the next room, even though there was no adjoining door. A group of soldiers were being taught to read and write, and were reciting lines of the Aeneid with the foot-dragging, lifeless tones of schoolboys. Flavius Cerialis had gone pale. The rest, even the senior regionarius, gaped in sheer horror.

‘Bastards,’ muttered Annius.

‘Animals,’ Rufinus said. ‘Just animals.’

Cerialis recovered quickly. ‘Well, that merely reinforces my gratitude for the centurion’s arrival at the vital moment. I shall make another offering to thank the gods that my wife is safe. But all this talk of druids, magicians and kings in the far north must be left for another time, as we have more urgent matters and new orders.’