‘Forward, march!’ Cerialis shouted and they set off. The men were ready for the field, wearing dark cloaks, shields protected by drab calfskin covers, and armour and other metalwork well greased and oiled to fend off rust. Three turmae of Batavians followed the senior officers, each decurion leading two dozen men in three files so that they could get through the gate without having to slow down. They went in silence apart from the clink of harness and the dull thump of shields swinging gently against the horses’ left shoulders. Decurions had high yellow plumes running down the centre of the helmets, as well as the animal fur sported by their men. Behind came the infantry, helmets with deeper, broader neck guards and uncovered ears so that they could hear commands better. Apart from the officers and one or two men who liked to dress up, their helmets were covered with moss, which looked like fur from any distance. There were seventy-five Batavian cavalry and two hundred infantry divided into three centuries, one of them led by the optio Arcuttius as acting commander because only a pair of centurions were available. The last remaining vexillum was carried by one of the standard-bearers at the head of the infantry.

Ferox stood beside his horse watching them pass. The road was lined with well-wishers, other soldiers off duty, and scores of women and children from the camp watching their menfolk march away and not knowing whether they would ever see them again. The law said that soldiers could not marry, but many of them ignored the rule and the army turned a blind eye, content as long as they did not expect extra rations or pay. The women were a tough bunch, some from home, many more picked up wherever the unit served. If their man survived his twenty-five years of service and was honourably discharged, then as an auxiliary he would gain citizenship for himself, his wife and their children, which was fine as long as he did survive. In the meantime they lived in the barracks, making love and giving birth in the little rooms shared with the man’s comrades. The children grew up knowing the army as their only world. The boys usually enlisted when they were old enough, while many of the girls would marry soldiers. There was a tall boy of eleven or twelve not far from Ferox, standing to attention with a ferocious determination, obviously yearning to be marching with the men. Alongside was his mother, a thin pale woman with long brown hair streaked grey and moist eyes that made it clear she wished her man was not going and that they had sent someone else instead.