Romans...they day has not started well. One of the patrols lost two men this morning. They held off a group of 30 or so fanatics whilst the rest of the patrol made it down from the slopes of Pendle and onto the road back to camp. Grand gestures but, it means trouble for the whole garrison. The locals are obviously agitated that our search for their shrine is getting closer to the truth and the lads will want to spill blood to make up for the indignity of turning tail.
The camp is at least secure but, I worry about the small garrison I have placed on the far bank of the Ribble in the shadow of the 'big' hill. We have new recruits, as requested, a detachment of cavalry. I think, perhaps, they need a run out to see how the auxillieries are faring at their lonely post...it should rattle a few nerves on both sides of the river! The construction of the bridge should keep the horses fresher for a sweep through the woods that surround us. They can deliver my orders for the auxilliary commander and, whilst they're at it, look for that acursed dark gods shrine.
The omens were not auspicious this morning and the mist clings to the hillsides and seeps into my bones.
Could be a long day.





