That Clodius’s service had lasted ten years had surprised Dabo as much as it had, no doubt, infuriated his old companion. News had filtered through that, after some great and bloody battles, the campaign in Illyricum was over. The 10th Legion would return to Italy to be disbanded and so would Clodius, so Dabo only had to wait a few more months and he would be freed from the burden of his contract. No point in antagonising anyone at this stage, so much to the annoyance of his hard-pressed offspring, and at some cost to his own blood pressure, he let Aquila do pretty much as he pleased.

‘Look at the bugger,’ he said to himself, as he spied the boy chatting to the two robbing sods who were putting on the timbers that would support his new roof. Aquila was standing, golden hair blowing in the breeze, a long pole in a bucket of tar, which he was stirring over a fire to keep it fluid enough to coat the wood. ‘What I wouldn’t do to be able to take a stave to the lazy sod’s back. He’ll toil for strangers but not lift a finger for the man who feeds him.’

Aquila enjoyed helping the two builders who had at one time, like Clodius, been small farmers, for both had been soldiers, and were happy to talk about it. As legionaries they had built for the Roman army in many a far-flung province; now they built for customers like Dabo but were happy to answer questions about their service from a youth just as eager to work for no pay.

‘Sighting a camp ain’t easy,’ said Balbus, removing his leather cap and wiping the sweat from the brow of a large head. ‘You want high ground to start with. Mind, it can’t just be set on any old hill, though half the generals in the Roman army don’t seem to be aware of that.’

‘Generals!’ His small, stringy partner, Mellio, spat as he said that, his sunburnt face screwed up with hate. He did not like superiors of any description and he was vocal about his reasons. ‘They either kill you, maim you, or beggar you.’