‘Yes, sir.’

‘And that goes for any Druids that are present as well.’

‘Druids? I thought they were our most implacable foes, sir. That was certainly the case when Macro and I last served here.’

‘Oh, they still hate us with a vengeance, and it is official policy not to take any of them alive, but if we don’t allow them to attend then there is no chance of peace. I hope that they can be persuaded to see reason.’

Cato clicked his tongue. ‘The Druids I knew were fanatics, sir. They would gladly die rather than give an inch to Rome.’

Ostorius turned to him with an irritated expression. ‘As I told you before, Prefect, that was several years ago. Men change. Even the most determined of enemies can grow tired of killing each other and desire peace.’

‘Most men, yes. But Druids?’

‘This is the kind of thinking that you must put aside. That is why I am telling you this. There can be no misunderstanding between us, Prefect Cato. You will behave as I have said, to all who attend the meeting, including the Druids. No, especially the Druids. And that goes for the centurion as well. I will not have either of you cause any trouble. That is an order.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. The same applies to Caratacus, if he shows up. Or any who represent the Silures or the Ordovices.’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘Then be so good as to make sure that Centurion Macro does as well.’

With that the governor urged his horse forward to resume his position at the head of the small column. Cato watched him with a sense of misgiving. It seemed that Ostorius might be staking too much on his desire for peace. Even if he could persuade Caratacus to lay down his arms, Ostorius must know that the terms of such a peace would be unacceptable to Rome if they could be construed as a humbling of the Emperor and his legions. However much Cato shared the governor’s desire for an end to hostilities, he feared that the most likely outcome was the continuation of the bitter struggle. Which would suit Macro nicely, Cato reflected with a grim smile. His friend thrived on it. Battle was as much his element as water was to a fish. It would be interesting to see how his friend coped with the governor’s orders.

Cato reined in and waited for Macro and the legionaries to catch up. Macro seemed to have recovered from his hangover and was telling a story as he clutched a wineskin that one of the men had handed him.

‘. . . and I said, “That’s just too bad if she’s only got one leg.” And he didn’t get it!’

The others roared with laughter as Cato fell in alongside his friend. ‘That’s an old one. Must be at least the tenth time I’ve heard it.’

‘Jokes are like wine, they only improve with age,’ Macro replied, and hitched his reins over the saddle horn so that he could lift the wineskin and have a quick swig.