Ferox said little as they planned. The contingents to form the column were agreed upon, equipment, baggage and supplies stipulated, all to be ready to leave in three days’ time. Arrangements were as thorough as was possible in the time, reminding him of something once told to him by a veteran centurion in Legio V Alaudae, one of those rare old sweats who had risen from the ranks through sheer talent. ‘It doesn’t matter whether or not it’s a good idea,’ the man had said. ‘Our job is to make sure that it’s done well.’ Ferox doubted the wisdom of this plan, but when he tried to speak Claudius Super ordered him to be silent. There was an awkward pause, and Crispinus looked intently at him for a while, but was not moved to speak. Claudius Super was senior to Ferox and supposed to know more than the men who reported to him.

Yet when the meeting ended and they began to disperse Crispinus tugged at Ferox’s arm. ‘I shall want you by my side,’ the young aristocrat told him. ‘And your Brigantian scouts will be invaluable, of course.’

IX

THE RIDER SAT motionless, watching them, as the cool wind gusted along the valley, hissing and rippling through the long grass. It must have been stronger and colder up on the hilltop, yet the man was bare from the waist up, his chest covered in a curving web of blue tattoos, his face painted red from the nose down and black above, his dirty brown hair plaited into a pigtail reaching halfway down his back. He carried a thick-shafted spear and a little rectangular shield, the face covered in dark leather and with studs around the iron boss.

‘They know we are coming then,’ Crispinus said, squinting as he stared up at the man. It was the first time he had seen a Briton since they had set out – at least one who might well prove an enemy. The sight was as unsettling as it was exciting.

‘They have known we were coming since we set out,’ Ferox told him. ‘Probably earlier than that.’ He hoped the words did not hint at British spies and traitors in their ranks, but he judged the tribune to be a fair man and he needed to learn how quickly news travelled and how difficult it was to achieve surprise. The Roman army was not made for stealth and since you could not hide the movement of any sizeable force, the best to be hoped for was to move so fast that the enemy did not have enough time to prepare. Ferox did not want to think of the clans of the Selgovae as enemies – at least not until he was forced to do so – but in the field it was always wise to expect the worst and look for the slightest sign of danger.