Cato was too tired to comment. He finished the last of his stew and drained his cup. Then he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully for a moment.

‘I think it’s time we brought Maridius and the other prisoners into play.’

It had started to rain again as scores of men stood along the wall looking on curiously as two legionaries lowered a ladder to the ground close to the causeway. Beside them Macro regarded Cato with concern.

‘This ain’t a good idea, lad.’

Cato gestured towards the prisoners pressed together behind the gatehouse under the watchful eyes of several legionaries. ‘I think it might buy us a little more time.’

‘What makes you think Caratacus will agree?’

‘It’s more than likely that he won’t, but he will think it over. And every hour that he wastes pondering the problem improves our chances of getting through this alive.’

‘Not by much. You said it yourself. We’re out on a limb here and as long as this cloud stays above us then no one’s the wiser in the rest of the army.’ Macro hawked up some phlegm and spat over the wall. ‘Fucking weather in this island is unbelievable. You’d have to be a mad dog or a Celt to venture out into the noonday gales in this dump, I tell you.’

Cato smiled as his friend continued in a more earnest tone.

‘Watch yourself. If there’s a hint of treachery then you turn and bolt back to the ladder. I’ll have a party of men on hand with javelins to cover you.’

Cato was silent for a moment before he nodded. ‘Fair enough. But keep them out of sight. This cuts both ways. If Caratacus suspects we might be trying to lure him into a trap we’ll lose any chance of talking our way out of this. Right, I’d better get going.’