Serving legionaries were exempt from the land tax, so for all the time Clodius served in Dabo’s place he had paid not a bronze ass to the local legate and because of that he had enjoyed an extra degree of prosperity. One of his neighbours, who had gone off to fight in the same legion as Clodius, had left a wife and two children to look after his holding. The eldest boy, the mainstay of the farm, had died of a flux, so the place was going to ruin. All it needed was one more thing to go wrong and the wife would be forced off the land before her husband could get home and put the place to rights. So ‘good neighbour’ Dabo had stepped in and bought her out at a knock-down price of her harvest brought in for free, added to half of his own. He was now the owner of three farms; with one more Dabo would definitely have enough land to realise his dream and change over from crop growing to rearing cattle. He would start small, he already had a goodly number of pigs, but there was actual money to be made in ranching and sheep rearing, real copper and silver coin, instead of the near-total barter system that he was engaged in now.

A tax-gatherer seeking ten years’ dues now would ruin him, for he was over-extended, busy turning his humble home into something approaching a proper villa that would go with the status to which he aspired; the future rancher had committed the small amount of actual money he had to paying for that. Hard to imagine now, in amongst all the filth and rubble and the dust blown into every chamber in the old part of the house, but it was Dabo’s dream to live and die like a true gent, a knight with an income of a hundred thousand sesterces. Ranching would bring him that — not all at once, but in time, as with real money he could change over from seed to pasture, then buy up a whole load more properties from neighbours struggling to make ends meet.