We had hoped against hope not to be sent on the same patrol; but once we saw the Centurian’s name posted, we knew it could only mean Windsorium again. Centurian Alecsis Quintillian Martelus, he of the iron grey hair, iron grey lungs and teeth scarred by a thousand battles, addressed us thus : “ Legionaires – we ride west to subdue the Catavali; forti et fideli nihil difficile – beware albus van-man – aequam memento rebus in arduis sevare mentem - now mount and ride out” and so we went forth to the town edge where he counted our heads and appointed junior officers. The pace he set was hard and some fell behind and were in danger of being cut off til we forced him to wait. At the first rest stop the Centurian gathered his special friends and left us – forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit ! We examined the weapons of the datcheti called “beating rods” and then on west. Beyond Windsorium at the sign of the equus niger he shouted “Nunc est bibendum” and disappeared with his cronies leaving us outside in the sun. We drank to our recently departed comrade, John Watson, de mortuis nil nisi bonum.
Woodfordimus played the giddy goat with the condiments again – dulce est desipere in loco ! We mounted up again and followed the Centurian who led us circumspectly through Celtic country but nil swooping to the Rivus Jubileeum - rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis – we slogged east back towards base fighting rearguard actions – cavendo tutus. At the sign of the leo rubus he said “ergo bibamus” and forced a legionaire to buy him spiritus vini – O si sic omnia ! And then it was time to return to our individual billets – domus et placens uxor ............. thus went the ride of the tyrant Alecsis Quintillian Martelus – tremble when next his name is posted