‘We’ll leave him behind with the mules. If those are his people, hopefully they’ll stop to set him free, and that’ll buy us a little more time.’

‘What are you planning, lad?’

‘We’ll ride hard for the treeline. They’ll be forced to angle across country to follow us, and lose a bit of ground. If we reach the cover of the trees sufficiently far ahead of them, we can leave the track and lose them in the wood.’

‘That’s madness,’ Decimus protested. ‘They’ll hunt us down.’

‘Maybe. But with two on my horse, they’ll catch us quickly in open country. We’ll stand a better chance of getting away from them in the wood.’

Decimus clenched his jaw and said bitterly, ‘I should have stayed in Londinium.’

Macro spat to one side. ‘Beginning to wish the same thing.’

‘Quiet!’ Cato ordered. ‘Just be ready when I give the signal.’

They were no more than a quarter of a mile from the edge of the wood when Cato noticed that the men on either side were moving closer. The time to act had come, he decided. Taking a deep breath, he reined in and spoke steadily to Decimus.

‘Now is the time. Up you get!’

Decimus slipped from the saddle of his mule and Cato offered a hand to help him scramble up behind the saddle. As soon as the man had a firm grip on the rear saddle horns, Cato spurred Hannibal forward.

‘Go, Macro! As fast as you can! I’ll follow!’

The centurion slapped his hand on the rump of his mount before leaning forward and urging it on towards the distant trees. The mules, spooked by the sudden action, brayed and trotted after the horses for a short way before the burden of the baggage and the prisoner slowed them to a halt and they stood uncertainly, strung out along the route, abandoned.

As soon as they realised what their prey was up to, the riders on either flank gave chase, making for an opening in the trees where the track entered the wood in an attempt to cut the Romans off. Macro had already drawn a short distance ahead and Cato was tempted to call out to him so that he would not leave his companions behind. It was an unworthy thought and Cato banished it in an instant as he gritted his teeth and dug his heels in, forcing his mount to rush headlong down the track, kicking up small stones and divots of turf in its wake. The cold and chill of the day were lost in the anxious hot thrill of the chase and the details of the world around him were leaping before his eyes as the powerful muscles of the horse galloped for the safety of the trees.

‘Come on, Cato!’ Macro shouted over his shoulder. ‘Keep up!’