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threat of danger, a handy mule transported the majority of the unit’s spears. The shield was big and heavy and needed constant adjustment to stop it obstructing its bearer, and the two spears had a habit of crossing so that the lead weights which gave them their accuracy and power wanted to go in different directions. Added to the difficulty of jogging across uneven ground with a large pot on your head, cooking in an iron shell, it made for an interesting exercise.
    ‘Not wine … vinegar.’
    Valerius shot him a puzzled look.
    ‘The bars here,’ Lunaris grunted. ‘The wine they sell is pure vinegar.’ He grinned and gradually stepped up the pace, but if he thought he would leave the tribune behind he soon found he was mistaken. Valerius’s long, powerful legs covered the ground in a loping stride that never seemed to falter. His armour had been fitted by an expert and allowed him greater ease of movement and less chafing than the segmentata worn by the rank and file. It was lighter too, but just as strong, because the armourer had chosen iron with a greater carbon content. By the second circuit, Lunaris was drawing in the warm air in prolonged, shuddering gasps, and Valerius could hear groans from the ranks behind him. He slowed imperceptibly, allowing the grateful duplicarius to drop back with him. As he ran, he studied Colonia’s walls and defensive ditch.
    ‘What do you think of the defences, soldier?’
    Lunaris spat. ‘What defences?’
    ‘My feelings entirely,’ Valerius agreed. ‘I think we’ll double the guard tonight, just in case. Second century to supply the first watch.’ He moved away so he wouldn’t hear Lunaris cursing under his breath.

VII
    She was tall, was that his first impression? No, it was her eyes, he decided; he was drawn to her eyes, which were wide and curious and framed by long lashes. Irises of a deep chestnut brown contained a message which was at once challenging and mocking, and, perturbingly, left him feeling quite naked. Lustrous, shoulder-length hair which matched them was swept back from a broad forehead, leaving tendrils to highlight the perfect oval of her face. The nose perhaps a little too delicate, the mouth a little too wide for classic beauty, but in her they combined to create something more. She wore a full-length crimson dress, the design of which said Roman but something about the way she wore it said not. All this in the time it took for an arrow to leave the bow, or a shot the sling. As he stared into them the eyes changed shape and became serious and he realized the military commander Falco was talking to him.
    ‘… And this is Lucullus, our foremost Briton, a lord of the local tribe, the Trinovantes, and a longtime friend to Rome.’
    A short, rotund man bowed and smiled ingratiatingly. Valerius would have moved on – the local Britons were of little interest to him except as potential enemies – but Lucullus stood his ground and waved the girl forward.
    ‘My daughter, Maeve,’ he said.
    Maeve?
    Valerius turned to acknowledge her but she was already walking towards the gate of the temple complex. He stared at the slender retreating figure and was rewarded with a venomous backward glance aimed, fortunately, at her father. He felt an almost unstoppable urge to follow her, but Falco took his arm and steered him round the still smiling Lucullus with a sniff of irritation.
    ‘Tiberius Petronius Victor, whom I understand you have already encountered.’ Valerius’s mind remained focused on the girl but he noted the hint of disapproval in Falco’s voice. ‘He is Colonia’s senior magistrate, the procurator’s personal representative here and one of our leading citizens.’ The militia commander gave a brittle smile. ‘And he has a tight grip on the town’s purse strings.’
    Petronius produced a laugh equally devoid of humour. Clearly little love was lost between the two men. ‘Each of us has our priorities, Quintus. Mine is to ensure we create a