Someone coughed to attract his attention, but it was a gentle clearing of the throat, not only unmilitary, but distinctly feminine.
‘Good morning, centurion,’ Sulpicia Lepidina said. Her hair was in her usual bun, for the hood of her cloak had fallen back to show her pale face. ‘Or nearly morning, at least. I thought that you all must be cold and tired, so have brought soup.’ She held up a small, lidded cauldron. ‘I am afraid that there are no bowls, so you must all share the same ladle.’
‘That is kind, lady, but…’
‘If the “but” is to say that I should have provided for all,’ she interrupted with mock severity, ‘then I am disappointed to face such doubts.’
Ferox heard low voices and the clink of metal on metal and realised that someone was walking along the rampart to his left, stopping at each man.
‘There is plenty for all,’ Lepidina went on, ‘and if you show surprise then I am disappointed that you have such a low opinion of a senator’s daughter. Supervising a meal for five hundred is straightforward compared to seating guests at a dinner.’ She laughed, not her wild bray when she let herself go, but a gentle chuckle.
‘Thank you, my lady,’ Ferox said and gestured at the others, ‘but an officer should always eat last.’
‘Of course,’ she said approvingly, before the laugh returned. ‘Dear Claudia has been saying that you are getting fat!’
Ferox could smell the hot soup as Lepidina removed the lid and each man went up and spooned out a few mouthfuls. He wondered why he had not thought of ordering food to be brought. That he expected there to have been a hard fight long before now was beside the point.
‘The children are well – all of them,’ Lepidina said, coming over to him now that the others had finished. They had all moved to the far side of the tower, grinning and bowing their heads to thank the lady for her kindness. Ferox had seen it before, how just a little hot food could lift a man’s spirits and breathe new life into him. ‘And she will be fine. She is a survivor that one, and has good folk with her. They will come back.’
In truth Ferox had not been worrying about the cavalry – or at least it was no more than one amid many worries. They ought to be able to handle themselves, although it would be much harder if the Dacians had bypassed the fort in the darkness and fog and pressed on down the valley. They must be mostly on foot, judging from what Maximus had said, for it was unlikely that too many horsemen would have travelled hidden through the woods at the side of the valley. Still, if some of the Roxolani were back and they had arranged to join forces… That was not a comforting thought, although quite a likely one. At least the Brigantes were well mounted and knew how to ride if they had to flee, and even the handful of auxiliaries sent with the column were the pick of the bunch as regards men and their mounts.
‘They have a good chance,’ he conceded.
Sulpicia Lepidina patted his hand where it held the parapet. ‘You will see us all through – as you always do.’
Ferox hoped that was true, then panicked in case saying something like that was bad luck. ‘Well, I seem to have given us all a sleepless night for nothing,’ he said. ‘And they didn’t like me much before!’
A horn blew, faint and distant, followed after a moment by the rasp of a cornu, much closer and louder.
‘East gate,’ Ferox said, as much to himself as anything else. ‘Excuse me.’ He loped past Lepidina to the back of the tower and shouted down. ‘Sound the alarm!’
The three tubicines on the level below had already spat to moisten their lips and now raised the long trumpets and started the fanfare ending in a peal of three notes, repeated again and again.
‘That’s enough!’ Ferox called down. He could see movement around the nearest barracks as men ran out. Anyone who had not woken by now was unlikely to be roused by more blasts and he wanted to be able to hear any signals from the rest of the fort. Down below a horse was waiting in case he needed it to get quickly from one side of the fort to the other. There were no more trumpet calls, nor sound of ox horns from outside, and the only shouts came as the woken men were formed up. On the ramparts and towers – at least to the little distance he could see – everyone was alert and expectant, staring out into the mist. There was no sign of any threat here, and no noise of heavy fighting from the east gate.
The gates were the weak spots as was bound to be the case. If this was a full assault with rams and other engines, then it was easier to knock down a gate than a section of timber and turf rampart. More likely, the enemy would hope to rush the fort and bring nothing more sophisticated than ladders and ropes, but even so they would attack near the gates because only in front of these were there easy paths through the obstacles and over the ditches. The porta praetoria was the most vulnerable of all, for even without this mist the houses of the canabae gave any attacker plenty of hiding places at night.
‘I suppose that I had better go,’ Lepidina said. ‘And get all the slaves to shelter so that we are not in your way.’ If she was nervous then there was no trace of it in her voice or manner.
‘It would be best, lady,’ Ferox said. ‘But thank you for the food.’
Ferox was itching to run to the east gate, but that was not his job, not yet at least, and he had to stay here and wait for reports. This was where he had told all the officers that he would be and they all had instructions. In the intervallum behind him, some thirty men had formed in six ranks as reserve under an optio from I Minervia. Similar parties were ordered to wait at intervals around the fort, while Tiberius Claudius Maximus ought to be getting all the remaining mounted men in the garrison ready to ride at a moment’s notice. Their station was outside the principia, for the horses had been kept in its courtyard, which would no doubt need thorough cleaning when all this was over, at least if anyone was left to do fatigues.
‘Lady!’ Vepoc’s shout was harsh. ‘Stop, lady!’
Ferox turned, fearing some treachery, only to see that the Brigantian was pointing to where the lady’s cloak had snagged on the upright top of the ladder. He bounded over and freed the material, for she was carrying her cauldron, had the ladle tucked under one arm and was using the other to hold the ladder.
‘Thank you,’ she said, giving him a dazzling smile and then vanishing down through the open trapdoor.
Vepoc nodded. ‘We thank you, noble lady,’ he said softly, even though Lepidina had already gone.
‘Well done,’ Ferox said, but the Brigantian ignored him and simply went back to his place at the front of the tower.
There was still no sign of anyone apart from the picket to their front. Light was growing, giving the mist something of a milky quality, but it remained so thick that he could not see far. Inside the fort the shouting had died away as everyone got into position, and Ferox could hear nothing from the east gate. That ought to be a good sign, for a real attack ought to make a lot of noise if the defenders put up even the mildest of struggles. Still, it was hard to wait, unable to see and not knowing what was happening.
A horse came pounding across the grit pressed into the earth of the intervallum and skidded to a halt below the tower. One mounted messenger was stationed at each gate for this purpose.
‘Bolanus’ compliments, sir!’ the rider shouted up when Ferox appeared at the rail above him. ‘Dacians have shot arrows at us. One of the picket is wounded, but they have all come in. Still shooting at us, but no sign of any more.’ The man spoke the words as one well rehearsed. Bolanus was the other optio from I Minervia and a solid, very thorough soldier, which was why Ferox had put him in charge at the gate.