For two days they spent most of the time in the saddle, as Ferox tried to make sense of the descriptions left by Prasto. They went inland to the higher ground, which helped, although there were so many folds and little valleys that he knew that he was missing a good deal. There were also few tracks and a lot of trees as well as thick, thorny hedges that criss-crossed the country and seemed to make little sense as field boundaries. Since it was almost the end of October, the days were getting short, which gave them less time to search. The fourth day began with driving rain. The prince and the tribune insisted that they keep searching. That was the only day Claudia Enica did not ride with them, and instead she stayed in the little tent set aside for her. The next day was the same, with no reward for long hours of suffering. Two of the Batavians and one of the Brigantes developed a fever overnight.
‘The prince is worried that you are not really trying,’ Crispinus told Ferox as they ate a cold meal. ‘We seem to be getting nowhere.’
‘What would you have me do, my lord?’
‘Find a way, Ferox, as you have done before. Get lucky if that is what it needs.’
‘This is not a place for good luck, my lord. And I have little to go on.’
Crispinus took a spoonful of stew and then wrinkled his nose in distaste. He stood up, short enough to do so without crouching, and went to the door of the tent to empty the rest of the bowl outside. Coming back, he patted Ferox on the shoulder. ‘Do what you need to do. But know that this matters more than I can say. The price of failure will be high. Not just for you, but for the one you care about most. Think on it. Now, I must brave the elements to answer a call of nature.’
The sun shone the next morning, although a high wind kept driving rain clouds across the island. For a while there would be a deluge, then clear blue skies before the next one came in. Ferox led them to marshland covering miles. The soldiers from Segontium said that they had never been in there, although they did know that the boggy country stretched to the sea. A shepherd was no more informative.
‘We don’t go in,’ he said through his wild beard. ‘If a sheep strays we leave her, for it means that the gods demanded payment.’
‘Ask him about the old days.’ Arviragus was leaning down from his horse, looming over the small man. ‘Was this a holy place?’
Ferox tried, but could sense that the man’s fear of speaking far outstripped any fear for his life. That meant that the place was special, and it could fit with Prasto’s description – as could half a dozen other spots they had seen already. Would it match what Acco had said? ‘I don’t think he can tell us any more, my lord,’ Ferox said, looking up at the prince.
‘Soon find out.’ Arviragus gestured to his bodyguard and another Brigantian. ‘Persuade this fellow to talk. When he is ready, call us and we’ll come and ask questions.’
Ferox watched glumly as they dragged the man into the trees. ‘We won’t learn anything we don’t already know, my lord.’
‘We shall see. May as well eat while we are waiting.’ The soldiers gathered wood to make a fire.
Ferox went over to sit beside Vindex. The scout was unimpressed. ‘Useless bastard,’ he muttered. ‘Give me the sister anytime.’ Once again the lady had remained in their camp.
‘She kills people,’ Ferox said.
‘If they deserve it.’
A scream split the air. ‘Come on, let’s take a look up there!’ He nodded towards a conical hill about a mile away, its top covered in trees. They walked, and the only one to see them was Cocceius who grinned and made a show of turning the other way.
‘How are you at tree climbing?’ Ferox asked as they neared the top. He saw the expression. ‘Fine, stay here and I’ll go.’
The oak was bare of all but a few shrivelled leaves and looked bigger than all the trees around it. Vindex crouched and made a cup for the centurion to put his foot in and Ferox managed to swing up onto the first big branch. For a while it was easy, the boughs solid and conveniently spaced, even though the rain had left them slippery. Ferox could not remember when he had last climbed a tree, and found that he enjoyed it far more than he expected. It was like being a child again. So far there was nothing to see save more trees and a squirrel that eyed him suspiciously. He pressed on, taking a while to choose his path. The little red-brown creature kept ahead of him, watching closely with its black eyes, and he fought the urge to throw something at it.
Ferox could not reach the next branch, even with his foot on a well-placed fork. He put all his weight on it, lifting the other boot in the air and gathering himself for a leap. As he jumped, the sole of his boot slipped. Fingers brushed against the branch above, but could not grasp it and he was falling, dropping five or six feet and landing astride another bough.
‘You all right?’ Vindex sounded distant, although he had obviously heard his friend’s yelp. The squirrel raised its front paws and scrutinised him. Then it bounded upwards, until it vanished.
‘Easy for you,’ he muttered.
‘You there yet?’
‘Yes!’ he shouted, and could not think of anything witty to add. After getting his breath back, he started again, finding a different way. Soon there were no more trees on either side, and he worked his way out wider until he could see properly. The branch bent under his weight, going lower and lower until he decided not to risk any more.
It took a while to get his bearings, although the camp and its smoking fire helped. That was sloppy, and he had found the Brigantes to be casual even by army standards when it came to concealing their presence. Beyond them, closer than he expected, although it was partly an illusion, was the rich blue of the sea. The mainland was so clear he could tell rain was coming without having to look at the brooding clouds rushing in from the west. To the left of the camp was the marsh, a richer green than the fields around about, but otherwise hard to tell apart until it turned into the pale brown of tall reeds. Deeper in there were glints of sunlight off water, perhaps from ponds or streams, then broader patches of blue free of reeds. There were two lakes, each a couple of hundred paces across and in between a spit of land rising into a low hill. A single tree stood at the highest point, and perhaps it had been the sapling Acco had mentioned. Three low stone huts stood a little apart, but there was no sign of life.
Ferox took a long time climbing down, ignoring Vindex’s increasingly impatient shouts. All the while he wondered whether to tell what he had learned. Crispinus’ threat might be a guess or mean that he had evidence for his affair with Sulpicia Lepidina; enough to humiliate and ruin her.
‘Oh, you haven’t gone,’ the scout said as he jumped to the floor. Vindex saw his expression. ‘Bad as that, is it?’
‘You know what tomorrow night is?’
‘Aye.’ It would be a day before the Kalends of November, but that was not what Ferox meant.
‘And do you want to be here then?’
‘I don’t want to be here at all. Still, we need to protect the lady.’
‘Who’ll protect us from her?’
The shepherd lay moaning on the grass when they returned. He was badly bruised all over his face and chest left bare by his torn tunic. They had carried him off to one side and dumped him there.
‘Where have you been?’ Crispinus barked angrily as he saw them.
‘Doing my job, my lord. I take it the prince learned all he needed to know.’