‘Yesterday afternoon, you say?’ Vespasian raised his eyebrows as the cavalry decurion finished making his report.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied the decurion. ‘Though more dusk than afternoon, sir.’

‘So why has it taken you until dawn to get back to the legion?’

The decurion’s gaze flickered down for an instant. ‘At first we kept running into them, sir. Seemed that they were everywhere, horsemen, chariots, infantry — the lot. So we swung back and circled round during the night. I realised I’d lost my bearings after a while and had to make a best guess. Before first light, we were way over to the east, sir. Took us a while before we even sighted Calleva. Then we made the best time we could, sir.’

‘I see.’ Vespasian scrutinised the decurion’s expression for any sign of guile. He would not tolerate any officer who put his personal safety before that of his comrades. Covered in mud and clearly exhausted, the decurion stood to attention with all the dignity he could muster. There was a tense silence as Vespasian stared at him. At last he said, ‘What was the Durotriges’ strength?’

He was pleased to see the decurion pause to consider the question before replying, rather than impulsively trying to gratify his legate with a hurried guess.

‘Two thousand… maybe as many as two and a half thousand, but no more than that, sir. Perhaps a quarter were heavy infantry. The rest were light troops, some armed with slings, and possibly thirty chariots. That’s all I could see, sir. More of them may have turned up during the night.’

‘We’ll find out soon enough.’ Vespasian nodded towards the tent’s entrance. ‘You and your men are dismissed. Get ‘em fed and rested.’

The decurion saluted, turned smartly and marched away from the legate’s desk. Vespasian shouted past him for the duty staff officer. An instant later one of the junior tribunes, a younger son of the Camilli clan — all expensively braided tunic and no brains — burst into the tent, brushing the decurion to one side as he passed.

‘Tribune!’ Vespasian roared. Both the decurion and the tribune flinched. ‘I’ll thank you not to treat your fellow officers in such an unmannerly fashion!’

‘Sir, I was just responding to —’

‘Enough! If it happens again I’ll have the decurion here take you on an extended patrol you won’t forget in a hurry.’

The decurion grinned with delight at the thought of that fine young aristocratic arse rubbed raw by a cavalry saddle. Then he ducked out of the tent to go and see to his men.

‘Tribune, give the order for the legion to stand to. I want the First, Second and Third cohorts ready to move as soon as possible. The rest are to man the ramparts. It’ll be a quick action, no marching rations need to be issued. I want them formed up on the track outside the south gate. Got that?’

‘Yes, sir!’