The other tribune looked surprised, but then caught on and nodded in agreement. They bowed their heads to Portia and left the inn, without acknowledging the Iceni rulers. There was a strained silence before Boudica spoke again.

‘You know about the assembly of the tribes, I take it?’

‘Yes. We’ll be part of the governor’s retinue.’

‘I see.’ Some of the warmth had drained from her voice. ‘Then we shall see you there, or perhaps somewhere on the road.’

‘We look forward to it. Now, how about that drink? We’ve a lot to catch up on.’

Boudica was about to reply when her husband broke in with, ‘Another time. Somewhere less . . . Roman. Come.’ He took Boudica’s arm and gently steered her towards the door. Prasutagus growled a command to his warriors and they withdrew across the inn to join them before the small party quit the inn and closed the door behind them.

Macro shrugged sadly. ‘Is that the way it has to be between us? So soon after we meet them again?’

‘Time takes its toll in many ways, old friend,’ Cato said kindly.

Macro glared at him. ‘Old? Fuck off. Let’s get back to our wine. Least we don’t have to share it with those freeloading tribunes now.’

They returned to the bench and sat down opposite Portia. Cato raised the jug, frowned at its lightness and shook it. A faint slop of liquid sounded from inside. He refilled Macro’s cup and tipped what was left into his own before raising it in a toast in an effort to restore some cheer to the atmosphere.

‘Here’s to your new business. I’m sure it will be a great success from the amount of passing trade that seems to come through the door.’

Portia raised her cup half-heartedly. ‘It would be more of a success if some of the trade actually stayed for a drink.’

Cato glanced into the dregs of his cup. ‘Or even bought a round or two.’

‘So where are these troublemakers, then?’ a voice called out from the direction of the counter and Cato turned to see a burly, grey-haired man emerge from the door leading to the storeroom. The serving girl anxiously peered round from behind his back. The innkeeper glanced round the room where his customers were drinking peacefully, then turned on the serving girl. ‘Well?’

She flinched back towards the door and he cuffed her hard about the head. ‘Stop wasting my time, you stupid bitch! Get in there and stoke up the cooking fire!’

The girl reeled from the blow and then hunched down and scurried away to do her master’s bidding.

Cato nodded towards the man. ‘The owner, and vendor, of the inn, I take it?’

‘That’s him.’ Portia beckoned to the innkeeper when she caught his eye. ‘Time, I think, to settle the deal, now that my dear son has agreed to invest in my new business.’

‘Invest?’ Macro echoed wryly. ‘It feels more like I’ve been mugged.’