Severa was watching him. 'You must be Brigonius,' she said dryly.

He was staring at the girl, still sitting on his milestone like a child. He clambered to his feet, making dust rise in a cloud. The daughter's eyes widened as he revealed his full height. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

'I am Claudia Severa. My daughter, Lepidina.'

The girl turned away coyly. He tried to fix his attention on Severa. 'How did you know me?'

'You weren't hard to spot,' Severa said. 'I just looked for the beard. The Cantiaci go clean-shaven, you know, like all good Romans!'

'I, ah-'

The girl spoke for the first time. 'You seem fascinated by me, Brigantius.'

'Brigonius. I am a Brigantian. My name is Brigonius-'

'Do you like my scarf?' She touched it. Its colour perfectly complemented the grey of Lepidina's tunic, and it cast reflected sunlight over the soft white flesh of her throat.

He was staring again. 'I've never seen material like it.'

'Well, you wouldn't have. It's silk. It comes from a land far to the east, even beyond the Parthians. Nobody knows how it's made-imagine that!'

He saw now that the scarf was fixed by a small brooch: a crossed-over curve of silver wire, a stylised fish perhaps. 'That's a pretty design. The fish.'

Severa evidently hadn't known the brooch was there. She glared at her daughter. 'Cover that up, you little idiot!'

With bad grace, Lepidina tucked the brooch out of sight.

Severa walked around Brigonius, eyeing him up and down as she might a horse. 'Well, you're evidently a lust-addled fool, like all men. But you're healthy enough, and you seem honest. I think we're going to be able to do business, you and me. But first we've an emperor to greet. Will you ride with us to Rutupiae? We've room.'

Lepidina, girlishly friendly now, linked her arm through his. She was soft and fragrant, like a scented cloud. 'Oh, yes, do. We've got fruit and wine. It will be fun!'

So Brigonius found himself sitting between mother and daughter in the shade of the carriage's awning.

The carriage joined the flow towards Rutupiae, the slave guiding Brigonius's horse. As they rolled across the flat coastal plain, it wasn't long before Brigonius caught the first whiffs of salty sea air-and through the awning he glimpsed the gleaming white shoulders of the monument at Rutupiae, a landmark visible for miles around. Meanwhile the air in the carriage was filled with the tickling scent of cosmetics, and the women plied him with a fine light wine and strawberries dipped in ground pepper.

'We heard of your trouble,' Severa said.

'Trouble?'

'The revolt in Brigantia. News of such things reaches Rome, you know!'

'I'd hardly call it a revolt,' Brigonius said. 'It started with a riot outside Vindolanda. Came from a bit of heavy-handedness by a decurion.' In fact the officer had beaten a Brigantian labourer he accused, falsely, of thievery. 'Next thing you know there was trouble all over the place. Some of the lads took the opportunity for a little petty banditry.'

'I thought it was more serious than that,' Severa said.

'Oh, the army had to deploy.' Once roused from its brothels and bath houses the army had, as usual, stamped down with maximum force on the dissidents. Heads were broken, a few villages burned, a gaggle of wives and children taken off into slavery. 'They cleared up the trouble quickly.'

'I don't understand why people even want to fight the army,' Lepidina said. 'I mean, what if they won, somehow? Why, without the army…' She tailed off. Her face was empty, her eyes and mouth wide, like a child's.

Her life had been remarkably sheltered, Brigonius thought. He felt an impulse to protect her-an impulse no doubt deriving from lust, but genuine despite that, he thought.

'Not everybody likes the Romans,' he said gently. 'Their taxes, their forced-labour levies-'

'You must like them,' Lepidina said sharply. 'You sell them your stone.'

'That doesn't mean they're my friends.' He grinned. 'I follow my father. I bleed the Romans white, if I can.'

Severa nodded, apparently approving. 'You learned much from your father?'

'He died a couple of years ago.'

'Yet you still rely on his wisdom, as you wait to accrue your own. A sound strategy. We are all shaped by the past, aren't we, Brigonius? In fact we wouldn't be sitting here now if not for deep historical links we share.'

'In your note you talk of your grandmother, who was a Brigantian but went to Rome.'

'Agrippina, yes. She died before I was born, but my mother told me all about her. Fascinating life! Somebody ought to write it down. And, you see, she knew your great-grandfather, Brigonius, who was called Cunedda-'

'Like my own father.'

'Yes. And his father before him. The story goes that Agrippina and Cunedda knew each other at the time of Claudius's invasion of Britain. Your family were Catuvellaunians, Brigonius. My grandmother's family owned an interest in a quarrying concern. Later in life she passed it to your family-to the son of that first Cunedda. And that is how your family came by their interest in quarrying, and moved to Brigantia to take possession of it. So, you see, in a way you are in my debt, aren't you?'

Brigonius, feeling manipulated, wasn't sure about that.

Lepidina had evidently heard all this before. 'I think they were more than friends,' she said mischievously. 'Agrippina and her Cunedda. Otherwise why make such an extravagant gift? I think they were lovers!' She whispered, her eyes huge, 'What do you think, Brigantius-Brigonius? Does love cross the generations, does love stand outside time?'

She was playing games, of course. But he felt a warm flush inside.

It got noisier. Lepidina ducked and looked out of the awning. 'Rutupiae!' she said. 'We're nearly there.'

Soon the carriage could move no further in the crush of traffic. The three passengers clambered out, Brigonius briskly, the women elegantly, and, leaving the unnamed slave with the carriage, they walked.

The air off the sea was fresh, and the sun was bright. The road was packed with people, their vehicles, slaves and animals. Everybody was funnelling towards the coast, where the road ended at the feet of the mighty arch. Children ran excitedly around the legs of the adults, and there was a hum of conversation. Vendors worked the slowly moving crowd, selling bits of meat on skewers, and oysters-a speciality of Rutupiae-and tokens and trinkets to welcome the Emperor, pennants in imperial purple, and miniatures of the grave, bearded face that had become so familiar from his coinage.

With Brigonius and his broad shoulders taking the lead, the three of them made their way through the crush. Brigonius loomed taller than most; perhaps Brigantians ate better than these Roman-owned Cantiaci. His spirits rose to be part of this cheerful mob. He said, 'It feels like a festival.'

'Of course it does,' Severa said. 'That's the whole point. The emperors have always shown themselves to the crowds, at feast days, in the amphitheatres. Now this new Emperor is displaying himself to the provinces-I believe he means to travel from end to end of his empire, as if it were one vast amphitheatre.'

'Why?'

'Well, he comes to unite,' she said. 'Not to conquer like Claudius, or to indulge his vanity like Nero. The consolidator, they call him. Look around, Brigonius. Do you imagine any of these people, even the smallest child, will ever forget the day they saw the Emperor himself in person?'

Brigonius grunted. 'From what I hear, there will be plenty of people who won't forget how much it's costing them to entertain him.'

Severa laughed. 'So young yet so cynical!'

At last they broke out of the crowd. They came to a cordon patrolled by soldiers in dress uniform, with bright red cloaks and colourful plumes on their helmets. Severa spoke to one of the soldiers and passed him a note on a slip of wood; he glanced at it and hurried off to find a superior officer.