3rd March 45 AD

With an underlying murmur, the waves lapped gently against the rough pebble beach. A fresh wind blew inland over the Fretum Gallicum and playfully tugged at his purple cloak, which marked Gaius as the leader of this army. The fabric flapped against his uniform and Gaius breathed in the salty sea air with relief. Closing his eyes, he could convince himself for a precious moment that she was with him. The fog had finally disappeared and so they could finally take advantage of the wind that was favourable for their journey home. The light of the Gesoriacum lighthouse was clearly visible on the horizon.
The snorting of his horse reminded him that he was not alone. A few moments later, Suetonius reminded him that it was time to leave Britain. Over the past few months, Gaius had ensured that the population of this new Roman province would want for nothing in the years to come. He had made treaties with the local tribes, founded cities, planned more roads that were already under construction and chosen a handful of freedmen to oversee the further expansion of the province's administration. Aurelia had warned him that it would be difficult to hold Britain and he wanted to be prepared for anything.
Full of longing, Gaius looked at the burning spot and silently prayed that he would soon be able to hold his wife in his arms again. The pebbles crunched under his boots as he started to move.
Elegantly he swung himself onto the back of his horse and spurred it on. As soon as his soldiers came into view, his posture automatically became more dignified. When they reached the gate to the fortified camp, Gaius signalled to his horse and the animal fell into a smooth stride. His men stood at attention as he rode past them and as soon as he had passed they joined his small retinue. In front of the praetorium, Gaius stopped the horse and jumped off its back. A strator detached himself from the shadows and led the animal away from him. Presumably he would quickly rub it dry in the stable and then have it loaded onto one of the ships.
From the praetorium, his staff of officers stepped out and took up positions firmly assigned to them. Smiling, Gaius turned to his waiting legionaries. Deliberately, he had not sent a messenger ahead. He wanted to be the one to look into the faces of his men, who had endured so much for him, and announce to them that the times of war were now behind them.
"Let's go home!" he shouted to his men and the army fell into thunderous applause. For a while Gaius basked in their cheers, then he raised his hand and abruptly there was silence. With a serious expression he signalled to Hesiod, who made sure that the sacrificial animals were led to him. The snow-white bull blinked lazily up at him and nodded imperceptibly, as if giving him his approval. With steady hands, Gaius grasped the knife presented to him and performed the ritual necessary for their safe journey home.
As soon as the animal's innards landed with a hiss in the fire of the altar, his officers gave the orders to board the boats. The army set off in an orderly and steady manner.
Together with his staff, Gaius entered his trireme and gave the signal to set off. As soon as they left the harbour behind them, Gaius turned one last time to this mystical island that he had sacrificed four years of his life to conquer. It was time to return home.