‘Follow your example?’ Caratacus snorted with derision. ‘You, who became King only after the last noble with the balls to resist Rome had been cut down? And how long did it take the brave Iceni to turn on the Romans in the first place? Years after they had sold their souls to the Emperor in exchange for his silver coin. Too late did your people learn the cost of their perfidy. Too late to help us when we first faced the legions. Too late to make a difference when it counted. And now you live under the heel of the Roman boot. Just like the spineless Trinovantes who now play unwilling host to a veterans’ colony and are squeezed for every last coin in tax to pay for the cost of a temple in honour of Emperor Claudius. So much for leaving us free to worship the gods we choose to!’ He lowered his voice marginally. ‘Prasutagus, your people suffer from the same burden. Your warriors have been forced to surrender their weapons. You stand defenceless before the will of Rome. What is to stop them treating you like slaves? You think the Iceni will endure the situation forever? One day they will have had enough and they will rise up. On that day they will see your treachery clearly. You say that you want to save lives and have peace. The truth is that you had to choose between dishonour and war. You chose dishonour . . . and you will have war. As surely as night follows day.’ He turned to point his finger accusingly at all the rulers and their tribes who had made treaties with Rome. ‘When your warriors and tribesmen have had their fill of Roman peace they will sweep you away like chaff. You will perish in the flames, alongside your Roman friends. Think on it! If you come to your senses, then seek me out in the mountains.’

He stared defiantly at the assembled rulers and then approached Ostorius and his officers and spoke in Latin. His accent had much improved since he had summoned Cato to his hut many years before.

‘The war continues. You cannot defeat us. Save yourselves and quit this island. Only then can we have peace. The peace that exists between equals.’

Ostorius shook his head. ‘I have my orders. The Emperor has spoken and his word is law. Britannia will become a part of the empire.’

‘Then there is no more to be said.’ Caratacus looked at the officers standing behind Ostorius. ‘Take heed, you will end up like your governor. Old and exhausted in pursuit of the impossible. Britannia will be your grave.’ He paused as his gaze fell on Cato and frowned. ‘I know you . . .’

‘We met once before, sir. When I was your prisoner. Back when we fought in the marshes to the west.’

The enemy commander thought a moment and then his eyes widened as he recalled. ‘Yes! You seemed much younger then. Now you are scarred and marked by the years of war you have endured.’