‘There’s no sign of the Greek. Shame, that.’ Hortensius’s brow creased in anger. ‘I’m looking forward to kicking seven shades out of him. No one kills my prisoners unless they’ve bought them off me first.’

The other officers grumbled their agreement. Prisoners who were to be sold as slaves were won at great personal risk, and were too infrequently come by to be wasted in such a profligate manner, even when vengeance was an issue. If Diomedes reappeared, Hortensius would be sure to insist on compensation.

He raised a hand to still the angry undertone. ‘We’re heading back to the legion with the other prisoners. There’s too many of them to send back under guard — the cohort would be too weak. And without the Greek to speak for us, I doubt we’d get much of a welcome from the other Atrebate villages we’re supposed to visit. So we go straight back.’

It was a breach of orders, but the situation merited it and Macro nodded with approval.

‘Now then,’ continued Hortensius. ‘A few of those bastards and their mounts managed to slip away and you can be sure that they’ll be running back to their little mates as quick as boiled asparagus. The nearest Durotrigan hill fort is a good day’s ride away. If they’re going to mobilise a force to come after us, we shouldn’t be seeing them for at least another day. Let’s make the most of it. Drive your men hard — we’ve got to put as much distance between this place and ourselves as possible before tonight. Any questions?’

‘What about the bodies, sir?’

‘What about ‘em, Macro?’

‘Are we just going to leave them?’

‘The Durotriges can look after their own. I’ve made arrangements for our dead and the locals. The cavalry squadron has orders to place our men in the well with the locals and fill it in before they set off after us. That’s the best we can do. There’s no time for any funeral pyres. Besides, I believe the local preference is for burial.’

The Romans shuddered with distaste at the thought of subjecting the dead to gradual decay. It was one of the more disgusting practices employed by the less civilised nations of the world. Cremation was a neat and tidy end to corporeal existence.

‘Back to your units. We leave at once.’