‘What do you mean?’ snapped Aulus, goaded by the impersonal military voice his son had used. ‘How dare you address me in such a manner?’

Quintus did not flinch, keeping his eyes away from contact, nor did his tone of voice change. ‘I carry her message, Father. She bade me deliver it and swear an oath to say no more. I cannot think that you would wish me to breach such an undertaking.’

It was insolence and Aulus raised his hand to strike. Quintus did not flinch as the balled fist froze above him. Then Aulus gave a huge shout. ‘Cholon. My horse.’

He stared hard at his son for another second, then pushed past him out of the tent. Quintus, with his father’s body out of the way, stared at the rear of the spacious tent. There sat the altar, loaded with regimental symbols and those Cornelii family vessels brought from Rome. Silently he prayed to the gods that what he suspected was not true, yet he was old enough and man enough to be sure it was and with a sinking heart he turned, following his father’s footsteps.

Claudia Cornelia, sat in the back of the wagon where Quintus had left her, heard the pounding hoof beats, first distant, then growing in volume until they seemed to fill her head. She dreaded what was to come, a confrontation she never thought would happen, which made her rub a hand fearfully over her already swelling belly, trying to feel the kick of the child inside. Then she remembered the eagle charm on her neck, hidden from Quintus under her cloak, an object that might become visible to Aulus. Quickly she removed it, feeling as she touched it an almost physical connection to the power it embodied. A last look, before concealment, had her recall the very first moment she had set eyes on it: for the first time in nearly a year, her mind went back to her capture, and the events that had changed her life.