‘I thank you for your concern,’ Caratacus responded flatly. ‘But I have every intention of taking your fort and burning it to the ground.’ He gestured towards the sky and a smile flickered across his lips. ‘Weather permitting.’

‘You cannot take the fort. It is too strong a position and you have no siege train, nor the expertise to make the weapons you require to batter down our defences.’

‘All we need is a decent ram. Even an uncivilised barbarian has the wit to construct one of those, as you have seen.’

‘Yes, I admired the rudimentary handiwork of the ram we captured. The gate has now been blocked up, so any more rams you decide to make will be useless. All that’s left is to mount frontal assaults. And we have seen how that ends.’

‘We took our losses,’ Caratacus admitted. ‘But so did you, and I rather suspect that I can afford to lose more men than you can. Besides, many of my followers have kin in these valleys and their hearts burn with desire to avenge themselves on those you have slaughtered. It is my intention to keep attacking Bruccium until it is destroyed and every Roman inside its walls is killed.’

For a moment Cato pondered explaining that this was the work of Quertus, but he realised that would make no difference to men who viewed all Romans as brutal oppressors. He sighed.

‘I feared that is how you would respond, sir.’ Cato raised the standard twice, the signal he had agreed with Macro earlier. Caratacus started suspiciously.

‘What trickery is this?’

‘No trick, I assure you. You know that we hold prisoners, your brother Maridius amongst them. If you look there, on the wall to the left of the gatehouse, you will see them in a moment.’

Both men watched as a line of men and a few women shuffled out along the parapet under the guard of Macro and some legionaries. Leading them was the tall, proud figure of Maridius. As soon as he saw Caratacus he called out, and Macro quickly strode across and slapped him hard across the face.

‘Keep your barbarian mouth shut!’