‘The trouble is, we can’t create enough of ’em to make much of a difference,’ Macro explained to Cato as the latter checked on his progress late in the afternoon. The heat in the forge was intense and the farrier and his assistants were stripped down to their loincloths. They sweated over the furnace and took turns at the bellows used to keep the fire sufficiently hot. The melted iron was poured into a hastily prepared mould that produced V-shaped lengths that were joined and beaten together while still glowing red. The centurion mopped his brow and indicated a wooden tub, no more than a quarter full of the dark, spiked weapons. ‘That’ll cover barely a tenth of the length of the front ditch. We’ve got enough material to provide for the rest, but not the other ditches. And besides, what we have won’t be finished for four, maybe five days.’

‘Well, it’s something,’ said Cato. ‘We’ll spread them thin to start with and hope that we injure enough of them to slow the rest down the next time.’

‘Then you think Caratacus will attack, regardless of your threat?’

‘I’m certain he will. In his place I would.’

‘And you’ll go through with it? What you said you would do to the prisoners?’

Cato took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I have to. In the first instance at least. Then he might be wary of causing the death of his brother. It’ll be a bad business, Macro. A very bad business. But it will have to be done.’

‘You don’t have to be the one,’ Macro said gently. ‘Just give the order. Someone else can do it. I’ll do it if you want. Or ask Quertus. He’ll be happy to kill the prisoners since he never wanted them in the first place.’

‘No. It has to be me,’ Cato said in a resigned tone. ‘Caratacus must see that I carry my threats through. It’ll also do the men good to see that I am as ruthless as that Thracian. I want no one to be in doubt that when I say I’ll kill someone, I will do it. Good for discipline.’

Macro raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Well, if you’re sure, lad . . .’

Cato smiled at his friend. ‘I’m just glad Julia isn’t here to see it.’

‘Don’t worry about her. She knows the meaning of being a soldier. Julia’s seen more than her share of death. She’d understand.’

‘Killing in the heat of battle is one thing. This is quite another.’

Macro shrugged. ‘It’s all the same in the end, however you dress it up.’

Cato looked at him searchingly. ‘You really think so?’