To do her justice, Veleda looked as though she hated telling it as much as I hated hearing it. 'They had deprived me of my gift, so the truth was slow to emerge.'

I buried my jaw in my hand. 'This truth were better submerged in the swamp with him.'

'If I were his mother or wife,' said Veleda, 'I would wish to know.'

'So would my mother and my future wife, but like you, they are exceptional:'

She changed the subject. 'That is all I can tell you. You and your men must depart discreetly; I have no wish to insult the chief who brought you here by exchanging his present too openly.'

'Where's Camillus?' I demanded suspiciously.

'Above. I still wish to talk to him.' Veleda paused, as if she read all my thoughts. 'Naturally,' she said softly, 'your friend will say farewell.'

I was desperate. 'Does it have to be an exchange?'

'That was what was offered,' smiled the prophetess.

At that point Justinus himself came out on to the stairs above us and clattered down to the basement. 'So what happened to Lupercus?'

'The legate,' I relied carefully, thinking as I spoke, 'was executed on his way here. Too much time has elapsed for the details to be known.'

Veleda's mouth was pinched, but she went along with it. Then she passed Justinus and left the two of us together. As she climbed the stair her cloak slipped. I could not see what gown she wore, but her rich gold hair was now braided extremely neatly into a plait the thickness of my wrist. Justinus and I avoided each other's eyes.

I made a small snort of annoyance. ' Eheu! I meant to ask her about horses:'

Justinus laughed. 'I asked her for what you wanted.'

She had agreed to my silly suggestion. 'Quintus, you smooth-talking devil! I hope you never come to me trying to wheedle a loan: Right, I gather she needs more of your verbal fluency. Don't bite your tongue off chattering! She wants us to leave quickly, but we'll have to wait until first light:'

'I must do what I have to here, Marcus.' He looked strained.

'Too many good men have said that, then thrown away promising careers with no public thanks. Don't be a fool-or a dead hero. Tell her the exchange is off. I'm expecting to see you before we leave, tribune. I'll load up, then we'll sit it out and wait for you.' He and I were responsible for the lives of Helvetius and the recruits. We both knew what had to happen.

'Leave at dawn,' Justinus said tersely. He seized the old wooden newel post and swung back up the stairs.

I left him, uncertain whether he intended to come with us. I had a bad feeling that the tribune might not yet know himself.

However, I was damn sure that Veleda knew what she was intending for him.

Outside, I quietly roused everyone. They huddled round as I whispered what was happening.

'The witch is letting us steal away, but her colleagues may view it differently, so don't make a sound. Thanks to our fearsome negotiator, she's giving us new transport.' I paused. 'So the question is, how many of you horrible seaside beach bums are at home on a Liburnian?'

As I had thought, for once we had no problem. After all, the legio First Adiutrix had been formed from discards of the Misenum fleet. These were the best troops I could have chosen for bringing the general's flagship home.

PART SIX:

November, AD 71

'After his first military action against the Romans, Civilis had sworn an oath, like the primitive savage he was, to dye his hair red and let it grow until such time as he had annihilated the legions:'

Tacitus, Histories

We managed to board without alerting the Bructeri. At first I refused to take the pedlar, then I relented, in order to make quite certain by keeping him with us that he could not inform on us again. The two mounts Justinus and Orosius had arrived on had been swiftly appropriated by our hosts, but we did tice our remaining four up the gangplank, probably because they could not see where we were leading them.

Fumbling in the dark we struggled in silence to untangle ropes and free wedged oars. Under way with an experienced crew the Liburnian would outstrip anything in these waters, but her condition was uncertain, we lacked manpower, and none of us knew the craft, let alone the river we were about to sail. A group of recruits slipped along the waterfront, putting a spike into boats that might pursue us, but the noise worried Helvetius and we recalled them.

The recruits were in their element. They could all sail and row. Well, all except Lentullus. Lentullus was still our problem boy who couldn't do anything.

The tone of the sky was lightening; I was starting to feel desperate. 'Helvetius, if Camillus doesn't come soon, you take the lads and get out of here.'

'You're not going ashore again?'

'I won't leave him.'

'Forget the heroics. Here he is!'

I admit, I was amazed.

We had eased the ship from her moorings and re-anchored in the channel. Probus was waiting at the quay with a bumboat to row the tribune out to us. We already had the anchor up as we hauled them in.

'Is it war?'

'It's peace.'

It was too dark to see the tribune's face.

Justinus walked to the stern of the ship without another word. I looked at his set back, then signalled the others not to bother him. He settled himself in a black corner, leaning against the general's cabin and staring back towards the shore. His little dog lay down at his feet, whimpering as it recognised unhappiness. Seeing the tribune's despondent pose, my own heart sank.

We had plenty to do. We let the ship ride on the current at first, for quietness. As the light increased, the full extent of a year's neglect became obvious. Soon we had half our troops furiously bailing while Helvetius cursed and tried to fix a dried-out bilge pump. It had been a sophisticated apparatus once. So sophisticated, a period out of commission had left its wood and calfskin utterly defunct.

We drifted on, with no sign of pursuit. Ascanius and Sextus had found the sails. The leather had stiffened so much it was almost unmanageable, but we stamped it flat as best we could. The smaller triangular jib went up fairly soon, though the square sail took much longer to organise. Then we found our ship sheering too near the bank. A Liburnian is a big vessel to be manoeuvred by a band of novices, some of whom are also idiots, but I still shook my head when eyes were cast sternwards.

'The tribune could add his weight here!'

'The tribune's done enough.'

'Sir-'

'He wants to feel gloomy. Let him be!'

With all other hands assisting on the danger side, we just shipped the oars in time to avoid crashing them, then held our breath as the galley scraped and bumped along the shallows. Somehow we succeeded in turning her back into the channel. She limped on in the grey light of a cold November morning, while we spent another hour working on the sail. It finally jerked into position to a weary cheer. After that it was a mad rush back to bailing duty, then we took stock.

We had no weapons apart from the javelins, and little food. Only two of us had armour. We had salvaged four horses-who might well end up grilled. We no longer possessed cash for bartering. We had the Bructeri on the north bank, and the Tencteri on the south, both contemptuous of Romans in distress. Landing would be fatal until we came to the River Rhenus, which must be over a week away. The way our ship was listing and dragging foretold a week of hard work.