Standing near the prow of the ship, pelted by freezing rain, Vulpo’s mood was dark. At least the foul black birds—the raven and crow ‘familiars’ of the Caledonian druids he was told once—had disappeared with the coming of the foul weather. Good, the commander thought, as he eyed his men. The birds were filthy spies, and his legionnaires were spooked by them.
Vulpo and his men had been sailing for three days now, along the eastern shore of Britannia. The crew was made up of various local tribesmen, whom Vulpo had pressed into service. The men were willing subjects, but Vulpo did not trust the Britons.
Expanding the scenario