Cato stifled a wince, and focused his attention back on the prisoner. ‘So, now we’ve dispensed with the pretence that there is any moral high ground in this conflict, there only remains the question of who is going to win. You must know by now that Rome will triumph. We have more men, better men, and greater resources than Caratacus can ever hope to command. He can only delay defeat. Every death, on both sides, that happens before he finally surrenders is on his hands. He cannot beat us, only prolong the suffering and destruction until the inevitable defeat. You must see that.’

Maridius shrugged. ‘Better to be defeated and die as warriors than live as slaves.’

‘Slaves? Hardly. You and your brothers will be treated no differently to King Cogidubnus who was wise enough to become our ally from the first.’

‘That fat coward?’ Maridius sneered. ‘He has damned himself, his line and his people in the eyes of every other tribe in Britannia.’

‘Hardly every tribe. The Atrebates are only one of twelve tribes who have made peace with Rome.’

‘Then damn them too!’ Maridius shouted.

No one spoke for a moment. Macro yawned. ‘This is all very interesting, sir, but it’s not helping us. He’s as mad as the rest of ’em. Let’s find out what we need and put an end to it.’

Cato raised a hand to silence his friend. ‘I’ll give you one last chance before the interrogation continues, Maridius. While I admire your courage and your pride, it is only helping to prolong the suffering of your people.’

The prisoner gave a dry laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘They are not my people. They are the Silures and the Ordovices. What do I care for their suffering?’

‘That’s nice,’ Macro commented.

‘They are still people,’ Cato continued. ‘They deserve better from those that lead them. They deserve peace.’

‘Roman peace?’

Cato ignored the taunt. ‘Peace. That is what we will give them once Caratacus is defeated. I need to know the location of his army, and how many men he has. I don’t care how I get the information, but I will get it.’

The prisoner glowered and then thrust out his jaw defiantly. ‘Fuck you.’

Macro sighed. ‘What, again?’

With a tired expression Cato stepped aside and nodded to Quertus. ‘Your men may continue.’

The Thracian moved his stool back a pace and then nodded to his men. The trooper tasked with beating the prisoner rose to his feet and moved round to the front of Maridius as he cracked his weathered knuckles and rolled his neck, like a boxer loosening up for a bout, thought Cato. He braced his boots on the floor as Maridius clenched his jaw and half closed his eyes, preparing himself for further blows.