Brann insists we take turns watching. Nothing happens and no troop of riders passes us.

Early in the morning I hitch a ride with Vaugn into the village. I’m relieved to see that there is a horse dealer present- and his stock looks decent quality too. I know a bit about horse dealing. I own a Roman trading licence in the name of Marcus Brennicus Atrebatius, horse dealer. He’s one of the many identities I’ve used over the years; a caricature of the kind of horse dealer who gets that trade a bad name (“Three legs? Three legs? Let me tell you, young man, that a three legged horse is a fashion statement these days; it show that you’re the sort of fellow who has enough good not to worry about practicality. It shows you’re a kind and generous soul. The girls will swoon, let me tell you.”). I feel a pang thinking about that loud-mouthed quick-talking swindler; Valeria played his wife one time I used his identity and, shrewish virago that she was, I almost wished we could both have stayed in character.

Fortunately the local dealer is a decent honest fellow who treats his animals well. I’m using the ring left by Amlaidh to trade along with some Roman currency I “acquired” from a Roman tax office I was burning. The ring is Irish work and I need to explain how I came by it- and why I need two horses. My story is that I’m a mercenary. I’ve wintered in Ireland but the squabble I was hired to fight in has been settled and I’m coming home. I’ve heard there may be another fight with the Romans and I need a couple of good horses and the kit to go with them.

The dealer frowns slightly. “Well, my lad, it’s true enough that there’s talk of wars and Romans on the move. They ain’t comin’ here though- leastways not that I knows of. ‘Benevolent neutrality’ is the word from Ebraic. We’re at peace with the Romans and aim to stay that way.” He spits on the ground. “Not sure as how I believes it, mind, but that’s the word the chiefs is getting from Herself and the druids. I could even get into trouble selling you horses if you was going to fight the Romans- ‘supplying weapons and equipment usable in the event of conflict’ that might be. Then again, lad, did you ever tell me you was shaping to fight against the Romans?”
Before I can answer he adds “Course you didn’t- for all I knows you might be on your way to sign up with their auksilyareyes or whatever they calls them.”

He pauses again, looking up and down the village street, then whispers “If you’re looking to fight the Roman bastards go to the Ordovices. Never thought I’d hear myself saying this as a good Brig but that’s where the fight will be ‘gainst the Romans. There’s a few lads been along this way heading for Ordoland- and a few more from Ebraic trying to stop ‘em. Watch the fords and ferries, lad; that’s where they’re stopping folk and asking where they’re going. If they don’t like the answer you’ll likely end up in chains.”

I thank him for his advice. “Good luck in Ordoland.” He replies quietly. “Kill a few Roman bastards for me.” I do a little more shopping for provisions, then Vaugn and I leave the village to the south; I have mounted one of the newly acquired horses and am leading the other one. As arranged, Brann and Flid are waiting for us with Lugh where the road bends to the west behind a fold in the land which hides us from eyes in the village.