Macro glared for a moment before suddenly laughing out loud and shaking his head. ‘He’s got balls, this one . . . For now at least,’ he added in a harsher tone.

Cato gestured to his friend to stop speaking. ‘Tell him that he’s going to reveal what I want to know one way or another. He can make it easy on himself, or we can continue this for the rest of the day. For as long as we like, until we get what we want. There’s no shame in speaking up now and saving himself a lot of pain.’

Trebellius translated and punched the Silurian in the guts for emphasis, but the tribesman groaned and gasped for breath and then clenched his teeth together defiantly. Cato ordered the decurion to continue and Trebellius laid into the prisoner methodically, a steady series of blows to his stomach, head and ribs. The Silurian endured it without saying a word, and merely groaned in pain and sucked in shallow breaths when his tattooed chest hurt too much to breathe normally.

‘This isn’t getting us anywhere,’ Cato decided at length. ‘We’d better try another tack. Decurion, let him down and bring him some water and bread.’

Trebellius wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. ‘I could try applying a bit of heat if you like, sir. A hot iron to the arse can be effective.’

Cato shook his head. ‘Not now. Maybe later on, if we need to. Let’s just try to get him talking. Let him down. Find Decimus and tell him to bring some food and water, and some wine for myself and the centurion.’

Trebellius untied the rope and the Silurian collapsed on to the ground with a pained grunt as the impact drove the air from his lungs. While the decurion left the room to fetch some water and bread, Trebellius wrenched the spear shaft away from the prisoner, freeing his arms. The Silurian lay on his side, panting, until his breath returned and then he eased himself on to his backside and shuffled towards the wall and sat propped up, glaring at the two Roman officers.

Macro finished his soup and pushed the bowl to one side. He wiped his lips on the back of his forearm. ‘You know, I don’t think he likes us, Cato.’

Cato smiled thinly.

‘We come all this way to share the benefits of civilisation,’ Macro continued, ‘and this is the thanks we get. Sometimes I wonder if these barbarians deserve us. What do you plan to do with him, once Trebellius has finished his work?’