‘Oh, come now! Do you expect me to believe that?’ Claudius spoke with the manner of a hectoring parent. ‘Out with it! Who put you up to this? Was it Valerius Asiaticus? Or Magnus Vinicius, who was nominated before me to my throne?’ He went on, listing senators and equestrians and freedmen with grudges, all of whom he suspected of plotting against him, or of scheming to restore the Republic.

Cunedda spoke up. ‘You think so little of us that you imagine we need a Roman to tell us what to do? This was for our own purposes, to rid our lands of you. And even if we fail today, with the men of the west and the druidh at his side, Caratacus will return, and you will pay the price in blood.’

Claudius seemed puzzled. He asked his secretary, ‘Caratacus?’

Narcissus said, his voice tremulous, ‘A son of Cunobelin.’

‘Ah, of course, the useful princes who harassed their neighbours, drove their rival chieftains into the arms of Rome, and made themselves healthy profits from the slaves they took.’

Cunedda frowned. ‘Slaves?’

Vespasian said coldly, ‘Your princes postured in defiance of Rome. But at the same time their raids on your neighbours won them a healthy flow of slaves to send to the markets of Gaul, in return for Roman gold.’

Claudius was watching Cunedda’s face. ‘You are actually disappointed, aren’t you? Are you British fussy about selling slaves? Was Caratacus a hero for you? But can’t you see that this is part of your conquest, that the Roman slave market distorted your politics long before a single soldier set foot here? Caratacus and his brother played two games at once, you see. They were not heroes, little boy. They were hypocrites and fools. And such men can never prevail against Rome.’

Nectovelin was as crestfallen as Cunedda, but he sneered, ‘We’ll see.’

‘How defiant you are! But how do you imagine you could possibly succeed, you or your Caratacus? Rome is a system, you see, a system that works on timescales far longer than a mere human life, even an emperor’s. And it feeds on expansion. The acquisition of wealth flows back to pay for the army, which then wins still more territory and wealth - on and on the wheel turns. Rome was always going to come here; it is destiny.’ His eyes sparkled; he was fascinated, as if this was all an intellectual game, Agrippina thought. ‘But emperors have been assassinated before, and no doubt will be again. Yes, if you had killed me it would have made a mess of things for a bit. Is that what you imagined, you hairy Briton, that history trembled at the point of your sword?’

‘You gabble, Roman,’ Nectovelin said. ‘You speak of destiny. But I have a Prophecy, given to me at the moment of my birth. A Prophecy of victory and freedom. That is why we will win.’