During the night the slaves and servants of the imperial household arrived to prepare the pavilion for the imperial family and their guests. They worked by the light of braziers and lamps to ensure that all the furnishings and banqueting tables and couches were ready for the Emperor’s arrival the following noon. A steady trickle of torches advancing round the far side of the lake indicated the arrival of the slaves sent to find good vantage points for their wealthy masters still in bed back in Rome. The opposite shore was nearly half a mile away and ranged along its length the campfires and torches glowed against the dark hills, and their reflections glinted and glittered across the surface of the water. After the rest of the men in their section had retired to the tent to sleep, Cato and Macro shared a wineskin and watched the numbers swell on the far shore.

‘I doubt that there will ever be a spectacle on this scale again,’ mused Macro. ‘I’ve never seen or heard of the like.’

‘That’s because there’s never been such a need for one,’ Cato suggested. ‘Desperate times call for spectacular diversions. If anything goes wrong with the show, or the mob isn’t entertained sufficiently then Claudius’s days are numbered. Either the mob will tear him to pieces or the Liberators will stab him in the back, or the deed will be done by someone even closer to him.’ Cato was silent for a moment. He reached for another piece of wood to toss on to the dying campfire. ‘Shit …’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Hardly a great state of affairs, is it? We risk our lives and shed our blood keeping the barbarians back from the frontiers of Rome only for these fools to put it all in jeopardy.’

‘So? What do you think you can do about it?’

Cato was silent, then looked cautiously into his friend’s eyes. ‘Not much, I admit. But it seems to me that right now Claudius is the best hope for Rome. That’s why we must do all we can to keep him safe.’

‘Claudius?’ Macro shook his head. ‘I think you’ve had too much wine, my lad.’

Cato leant forward. ‘Listen, Macro, I’m not drunk … I’m serious. We’ve seen enough of the world to know that Rome, for all its faults, is not the worst of empires. Where Rome rules there is order and prosperity and - though I know you don’t place much store by it - culture. There are libraries, theatres and art. And there is a degree of religious tolerance. Unlike those nests of arrogance and bigotry in Britannia and Judaea.’ Cato shuddered as he recalled the Druids and Judaean fanatics he and Macro had faced in battle. ‘Rome is the best hope for mankind.’