Aquila fanned the charcoal under the kiln to keep it at maximum heat. Minca, with more sense on such a hot day, had found a cool patch of damp earth on the shady side of the well. He lay there, tongue lolling out, watching Aquila toil at the fire.

‘That hill would be a good place,’ the boy said, pointing at a gentle rise that dominated the ground between the Via Appia and the foothills of the mountains. His other hand was held up to shield his face from the intense heat.

‘Granted,’ Balbus replied, ‘but what about water? It has to have its own water supply if it’s going to be for more than one night, and it should be flowing enough to wash away the legion’s shit. That’s the most important thing. It’s better to build on flat ground with water than to take a hill that’s bone dry. Then it needs clear lines of assault that you can protect against and you don’t want the natural line of attack to be comin’ from the east, ’cause in the first light of a clear day, your enemy can advance on you unseen.’

Mellio cut in, to point to a clump of trees that would require to be cleared. ‘An’ then you use ’em to build a palisade that’ll keep the sods out even if they do attack.’

‘Were you ever attacked?’

‘More’n once boy.’ Skinny Mellio puffed out his chest. ‘I’ve lopped the head off men trying to get over our walls, and that was the ones that hadn’t been speared before they got that far. I couldn’t tell you the number of times me and Balbus here had nothing but our shields, our sword arms, and a mate on our left hand between us and perdition.’

‘I’d like to hear it.’

‘Work first, lad,’ said Balbus, ‘then we can do the story-tellin’.’

Aquila was like any boy his age; he had dreams of glory, often imagining himself at the head of a great army, charging down upon a fierce, barbaric enemy, and by sheer personal bravery, routing them.