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Chapters (49)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. About the Book
  4. About the Author
  5. Also By
  6. Praise
  7. Dedication
  8. The Roman Army Chain of Command
  9. A Brief Introduction to the Roman Army
  10. Map – Britannia 51AD
  11. CHAPTER ONE
  12. CHAPTER TWO
  13. CHAPTER THREE
  14. CHAPTER FOUR
  15. CHAPTER FIVE
  16. CHAPTER SIX
  17. CHAPTER SEVEN
  18. CHAPTER EIGHT
  19. CHAPTER NINE
  20. CHAPTER TEN
  21. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  22. CHAPTER TWELVE
  23. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  24. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  25. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  26. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  27. THE FORT AT BRUCCIUM
  28. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  29. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  30. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  38. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  39. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  40. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  48. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  49. Author’s Note

‘Who are you?’ Cato demanded. ‘You’re not a Silurian.’

‘I am of the Catuvellauni,’ the man replied in lightly accented Latin.

‘Then what are you doing here? Your tribe surrendered to us years ago.’ Cato forced himself to sound cold. ‘Which makes you an outlaw.’

‘Outlaw? I am no outlaw. I pledged to fight Rome to my last breath. Like many in my tribe, I chose to follow Caratacus.’

At the mention of the enemy leader’s name Cato felt a thrill of realisation flow through his mind. That was where he had seen him before. At the stone ring, standing amongst the entourage of the native king who had resisted Rome from the very first moment that the legions had landed on British soil. Like many of the Catuvellauni, he had light-coloured hair, but there was something more about him. His build and his face reminded Cato of Caratacus himself.

‘What is your name?’

‘My name?’ The warrior’s lips curled in a sneer. ‘My name is for my people and those men who fight at my side as brothers.’

‘Is that so?’ Macro smiled cruelly. ‘Sir, if he won’t give us his name, he has no need of his tongue any more. Let me cut the bastard’s tongue out.’

Macro reached for his dagger and drew the blade, holding it up so that the warrior could see it clearly. Cato said nothing for a moment, allowing Macro’s bloodthirsty request to do its work. He saw the warrior look away from the dagger as his mask slipped and he revealed a glimpse of the fear in his heart.

‘Tell me your name,’ Cato ordered. ‘While you still have a tongue in your head.’

The warrior looked up, hurriedly composing himself, and stared back at his captors. ‘Very well. I am Maridius.’

‘Maridius,’ Cato repeated. ‘Warrior of the Catuvellauni and, if I am not mistaken, brother of King Caratacus.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

‘So what do we do with him, this Maridius?’ Macro asked as he warmed his hands over the brazier. Even though summer was not far off, the Silurian mountains were wreathed with cold winds and frequent mists and rain. Outside the walls of the headquarters building a breeze gusted in the night, rattling the shuttered window of Cato’s office. Decimus had brought them a simple meal of stew. Some of the horses injured in the recent attack had not been passed fit for any further service by the horsemaster of the Thracian cohort and had been slaughtered for their meat. The garrison of Bruccium relished the addition of fresh meat to their diet for a few days before the usual issue of gruel would resume.

Cato poured himself a cup of posca, the common legionary’s drink of cheap wine, watered down. ‘We were damned lucky to get our hands on him.’

‘True,’ Macro agreed with feeling. ‘But what was he doing in that village in the first place?’