She pressed her finger to his lips. When she stared out to sea she could see nothing at all. But there it was again, the unmistakable slap of a clumsily handled oar, the clunk of wood striking wood - and a muffled curse, a man’s voice.

‘I heard that,’ said Cunedda, whispering now. ‘You have sharp ears.’

A growl from the dark. ‘Keep your yapping down.’ Nectovelin was a shadow against the night. Agrippina wondered if he had been awake all the time after all.

Cunedda asked nervously, ‘You think they are pirates?’

Agrippina said, ‘Who else makes landfall in the dark?’

Nectovelin grunted softly. ‘Who indeed?’

‘What do you mean?’

Cunedda said, ‘Whoever it is, we don’t want them to know we’re here. We should douse the fire.’

‘Already done,’ Nectovelin said. ‘But they’ll smell the smoke—’

‘Hello!’ The small voice came drifting up from the beach. It was Mandubracius, of course. He was carrying a torch, and as he walked down to the sea he was suspended in a bubble of flickering light, a slight, spectral figure.

For a moment there was utter silence from the water. But now came a reply. ‘Hello?’ A man’s voice, heavily accented.

Nectovelin cursed colourfully. ‘I thought he was still sleeping. My fault, my fault.’

Cunedda tried to rise. ‘We should stop him.’

‘No.’ Nectovelin held his arm. ‘They may just let him go. Better to risk it than to reveal ourselves now.’

Agrippina felt as if a leather rope attached her heart to the little boy walking down the beach. ‘He’s only a child. He’s curious, that’s all.’

‘Hush,’ said Nectovelin, not harshly.

Mandubracius reached the edge of the water. Now, indistinctly, by the flickering light of his torch, Agrippina made out the boat that had landed. It was bigger than she had imagined, flat-bottomed, evidently for ease of landing on the beach. She saw men aboard, faces shining like coins in the torch’s dim glow. One of them stepped into the water and spoke to Mandubracius. Gruff laughter rippled around the landing craft. Mandubracius seemed to take fright. He threw down the torch and turned to run.

But the man standing in the water drew a short, blunt sword, and with it he cut down Mandubracius.

Immediately Nectovelin’s hand clamped over Agrippina’s mouth. There was a sharp word from the boat, perhaps of reprimand. Agrippina thought she heard a name: Marcus Allius. And then the light died at last.

All this in a heartbeat.