Hadrian smiled.

But that phrase of Nepos's-'little Greek'-shocked Severa. 'What did he call him?'

Nepos had used a Latin word: 'Graeculus', Greekling, Little Greek. 'It's just a nickname from Hadrian's childhood,' Karus said. 'He always had a passion for all things Greek, even then…'

Severa turned to her daughter, who looked as startled as her mother. 'Rome's great son has come to earth…A little Greek his name will be…A little Greek! That's what the prophecy says, mother. Oh, my eyes! It's coming true, it really is…'

The Emperor and his courtiers continued to chat with fascination over Xander's model, all unaware of the metaphysical shock among those who had proposed it.

And when Brigonius looked up he met the cold eyes of Primigenius. The freedman did not seem happy at this turn of events, not one bit.

Once Hadrian had made his decision, things moved quickly.

Governor Nepos insisted that at least some ground be broken, a few stones laid, before Hadrian left the province. And besides, if the ambitious project was to have any chance of being completed within Nepos's three-year governorship, then some progress surely had to be made this year. 'I want to see those stones piling up faster than leaves in autumn,' Nepos declared.

This decree sent Xander into a spin. Brigonius had the uneasy feeling that Xander's toy architecture did not translate quite as coherently as he had given the impression into a real-world project to be built by fifteen thousand hulking legionaries. But an emperor's will was not to be defied. And nor was Severa's: cold as ice, her determination fuelled by the Prophecy, she allowed no room for doubt. Thus they were all committed.

Hadrian planned to advance to the northern legionary fortress of Eburacum to inspect his troops. Once again Severa and her party rode ahead of Hadrian's caravan. Severa would use every hour she could steal to get the project up and running before the Emperor even arrived.

But for Severa's party the journey north was tense and sour. Once they were out of the pacified south, Roman military control was overt. There were no towns here save military outposts. The land was studded with watchtowers and beacons, and churned up by the remains of marching camps. Brigonius had grown up here; it had been his family's home for three generations. As a boy he had even played at the foot of a stern Roman watchtower, erected in Banna before he had been born. But for his companions it was a strange, uneasy landscape, and they barely looked out of the carriages. Xander and Karus kept themselves busy poring over plans of their Wall. Lepidina huddled over her poetry, and even Severa was subdued. In their minds this was the edge of the world, beyond which lay only a chaos that threatened to blow out the orderly lights of civilisation.

Once Brigonius tried to engage Severa and Lepidina in conversation about this. He talked of stories still told around Brigantian fires, of dynasties of bronze and stone, an oral history that went back thousands of years.

Lepidina said, 'I have an aunt who told me that Agrippina, my great-grandmother, told such stories to her daughters-'

Severa cut her off. 'It's all barbarian nonsense. Everybody knows that Britain was colonised by refugees from Troy. That's why Caesar came up against Trojan chariots here. And that is what we are: Trojans, good Mediterranean stock, a few generations removed. I won't discuss it any further.'

The party at last neared Eburacum. The legionary fortress stood on a hilltop on the north bank of a river, its walls square and uncompromising, and a shanty town of traders, soldiers' families and other hangers-on sprawled outside the fort wall and south of the river. Eburacum was one of six military power centres in the province, including the other two legionary fortresses and the three coloniae, including Camulodunum. As if to reinforce the permanence of the imperial stranglehold on Brigantia, in the last decade the fortifications of Eburacum had been rebuilt in heavy stone.

They reached a gate in the fortress wall. Here a unit of soldiers under the command of a decurion stopped them and had them dismount so their luggage could be searched.

As they waited at the gate Brigonius at last managed to shepherd Lepidina away from the others. After his hour together with her at Camulodunum, and that lightning-strike of passion, he had barely been able to spend any time alone with the girl.

'You've been quiet for days,' he said.

She pulled a face. 'Are you surprised? This is an awful country, Brigonius.'

'It's just different from what you're used to, that's all. And your ancestors came from Brigantia, remember.' He took her hand; it was warm and soft. 'Lepidina-that hour in Camulodunum, what happened-'

She blurted, 'You're thinking about the future, aren't you? Our future, a future for us together.'

He hesitated, reluctant to ask the next question. 'Aren't you?'

'Yes. Yes, I suppose so,' she said.

He breathed out.

'But standing before all this legionary stone-it seems so unreal, Brigonius. We are so different, our worlds are as far apart as sun and moon. Could you live in a town, even a mudhole like Camulodunum? Or could I live in one of those funny round wooden houses? I want to be with you. I think I want it. But how could it possibly be?'

'Then what must we do?'

'Let's give it time, Brigonius. A mere wall takes three years to build. A love takes a lifetime.'

He smiled. 'You do have depths, Lepidina.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'You patronising toad.'

'I wonder if your mother's Prophecy would be any help.'

Lepidina laughed sadly. 'Prophecies deal with trivia like the fall of empires. They say nothing about the important things, like love and the human heart! Look, Brigonius, we don't have to think about this now. If mother succeeds in building her wall, if you sell a thousand cartloads of stone to the Roman army, then we'll all be rich-ridiculously rich. And one thing I do know about the Roman way is that money changes everything. We'll be able to live as we choose, anywhere we choose. But for now-'

'Yes?'

She kissed him lightly on the lips.

When they got back to the carriage Severa turned on them. 'So you're lovers.'

Lepidina snapped, 'Mother-'

Brigonius raised his hands. 'Claudia Severa, if you're referring to the day of the banquet at Camulodunum-'

'When you screwed her? Not that. What does screwing matter? Animals screw. Humans become lovers. I can see it. You are comfortable in each other's presence. The way you talk, the way you walk. You are fusing. It is obvious.'

Brigonius said carefully, 'Severa, I don't think we know our own hearts. Not yet.'

'Oh, don't you?' Severa leaned forward, and in the gloom under the canopy her face was a mask of bloodless determination. 'Listen to me. Your silly hearts do not matter. What matters is the project. Because the project is our future-the future of our families for generations to come. Remember, both of you, that you are here to serve my purposes. Just keep your mouth shut, Brigonius, do as you're told, and if you must fiddle with my daughter do it out of sight of the Romans.' And with a sneer she turned away.

Brigonius was shocked. Severa had obviously used her daughter as a snare to lure him and his quarry to lend her scheme some plausibility. Now he had crossed some invisible line by getting too close to Lepidina, and she had struck back. There was no room for love in Severa's cold calculations-not even pity.

Lepidina was quietly angry. But it was clear to Brigonius that she had faced such dressing-downs from her mother all her life. Brigonius began to wonder how much Severa was capable of, how far she could go in pursuing her ambitions.