In spite of the agreement with Egus and his people, there was little more sign of life. Farms were empty when they arrived, although now and again they saw flocks of sheep and clusters of brown cows in the far distance. Warriors riding ponies watched them, sometimes letting Vindex’s men come close enough to exchange greetings or joking insults.

Just before noon they left the territory of Egus’ people and entered the lands of another chief, a man named Venutius, who never looked anyone in the eye and was renowned as a great cattle thief.

‘You make that sound like a compliment,’ Crispinus said when Ferox described the man.

‘It is in these parts.’

‘Well, at least he ought to have enough hides to pay his tax.’

The valley was just as empty, but the sides were dotted with clusters of pine trees, straggling groups of alder, and thick heather.

Crispinus was beginning to learn. ‘I presume that we are being watched.’ Ferox just nodded.

An hour later they saw a dozen riders some way ahead. Half an hour after that there were other horsemen high on the hills behind them, watching the main force march along the bottom of the valley. One of Vindex’s scouts came back, clutching at his side. His tunic was dark with a spreading patch of blood, which oozed between his fingers as he pressed them against the wound. He had been one of a pair of men sent along the valley side to the left. The other warrior did not return.

Ferox and Crispinus reached the wounded man as Vindex and two others were lowering him to the ground.

‘Bastards with horses marked on their heads,’ Vindex told them, looking grim even by his standards. ‘Shouldn’t have happened, though. The lad he was with rushed after the first one he saw. He’s one of the new boys.’ He shook his head. ‘Brigus here went after him and three of the buggers jumped him.’

‘What does it mean?’ Crispinus asked.

Ferox was scanning the trees on either side. ‘That we need to be more careful. And that we are probably in for a fight.’

Vindex kept his scouts closer from then on, and let the Batavian horsemen leading the main force come close before he pressed on. More and more little groups of warriors on horseback and on foot moved on the heights above them. A rider came from Brocchus to say that there were others closing in behind them.

They pressed on, fighting a sense that the valley was about to close in over them. The land sloped down and a little brook meandered along, finding the easiest path downhill. They had to cross the water again and again, following a track used by cattle. Up ahead there was the blackened trunk of an oak tree, struck by lightning and long since hollowed out, yet still standing.