There was a tense silence as the governor stared wide-eyed at Cato. Then he leaned forward. ‘How can this be true? Caratacus is consumed with hatred for Rome, and all those who serve in her legions. He rarely takes prisoners, and those that are captured are never again seen by their countrymen. So how is it that you were accorded such a dubious honour?’

The governor’s tone was scathing, but Cato ignored the slight when he replied. ‘I was captured by Caratacus, along with a handful of my comrades, in the second year of the invasion, sir. Once we reached the enemy’s camp, I was questioned by him.’

‘Why?’

‘He wanted to know more about Rome. About what motivated her soldiers. He also wanted to impress on me that the native tribes were proud and their warriors would never bow their heads to those who invade their lands. He vowed that they would rather die than accept the shame of submission to the Emperor.’

‘I see. And how is it that you lived to tell me this?’

‘I escaped, sir.’

‘You escaped from the enemy camp?’

Cato nodded.

‘Then the gods must favour you, Prefect Cato, for I have never heard of another Roman who can claim to have done the same.’

Macro chuckled. ‘You don’t know the half of it, sir. Fortuna has a full-time job keeping the prefect out of trouble.’

Cato cocked an eyebrow at his friend. ‘You don’t do so badly yourself.’

The governor cleared his throat irritably. ‘I was talking about peace, gentlemen. It’s several years since you last encountered Caratacus. Years of continual warfare. Both sides have been worn down by the struggle and I suspect that our enemy’s appetite for conflict is as exhausted as mine. And there are those in Rome whose impatience with the situation in Britannia is growing by the day. Most notably, Pallas, one of the Emperor’s closest advisers. I don’t suppose you know the fellow.’

‘I know of him, sir,’ Cato replied cautiously, before the governor continued.

‘From what my friends in Rome say, Pallas is the rising star. He’s close to the Emperor’s new wife and her son, Nero, who may well be the next Emperor when Claudius dies. It seems that Pallas is all for pulling the army out of Britannia and abandoning the province. To be sure, it has been an expensive exercise and there’s precious little return on Rome’s investment of gold and men. Nor is there much prospect of deriving anything of lasting value from Britannia once we’ve exhausted our supply of prisoners of war for the slave market. The silver, tin and lead we were led to believe the island was awash with have proved to be far less in reality. As far as I understand it, there’s only two reasons why we still have boots on the ground. Firstly, some of the wealthiest men in Rome have lent rather large sums to the leaders of the tribes who have allied themselves to us. As it happens, Narcissus is amongst them, which is probably why he is so keen to have our armies remain here, at least until his loan has been repaid. The other reason is to do with simple pride. If Rome was seen to retreat from Britannia, it would be a humiliation for the Emperor, and our enemies in other frontier provinces would be bound to take heart from our failure here. Of course, with a change of regime, the next Emperor could justify a withdrawal in terms of correcting the mistakes of his predecessor. So, gentlemen, as you can see, Rome’s grip on Britannia is far from certain.’