Sabinus freezes and feels Castus do the same beside him. “We are simply travellers, seeking trade and profit.” Sabinus says the familiar words to himself, rehearsing the story that they have created for just such an occasion. “We are far from Rome, there is little chance this man would know who I am, who we are.” But despite these mental reassurances, his heart pounds hard in his chest. He had been naïve to think that they could ever escape Rome’s long arm. Rome is everywhere, and this man, dressed in the burgundy garb of a Centurion, is proof of that.
“I just want to talk to you,” the man says. He speaks Latin, albeit with an accent Sabinus cannot place, and holds his hands up in surrender. “An unworthy surrender,” Sabinus thinks, as he and Castus are unarmed—and then checks himself for criticizing this very welcome capitulation.
“Break words then,” replies Castus, his voice honeyed. “We would see you satisfied quickly as we have urgent business to attend.”
The Centurion starts to speak, but the blue door opens again and a woman’s head appears. “Did you find them?” She glances over and sees them, and waves. “Oh, hey there.”
“Oh good, they’re here,” calls another voice from inside the narrow blue building. The Centurion is joined by two others. Sabinus is struck by their unusual garments. The woman wears a toga of a type he never seen, half coloured burgundy that matches the Centurion’s cloak. The man’s leg coverings resemble Castus’, but instead of flowing they cling tightly to his legs. Sabinus has little time to consider their origin, though, for the man is introducing his friends. “That’s Rory, that’s Amy, and I’m the Doctor.”
“Are you really a Roman soldier?” the woman—Amy—asks.
“Down, girl,” says Rory.
“I fear we are at a disadvantage,” Sabinus says with a guarded glance at Castus. “You know us, but we yet call you strangers.”
“Of course, sorry about that,” the Doctor says. “I’m afraid we are catching you a bad time. We were supposed to be here last week, which would be your tomorrow, but we got the dates wrong. Time zones, you know.”
The man speaks rapidly and Sabinus has trouble following his words, but before long he is convinced that these three present no threat to them. They are touched with madness, perhaps, but they are no threat.