‘Right.’ Macro was staring hard at the bodyguard. ‘Chatty type, aren’t you?’

The Latin was incomprehensible to the bodyguard and he simply returned Macro’s stare, silent and unyielding.

‘Come on,’ said Cato. ‘Can’t keep the tribune waiting. Save that one for later.’

With Cato leading the way, the two centurions pushed through the throng towards the entrance to the great hall. The two guards knew them well enough by now to wave them through. The interior was dark and cool, and it took a moment for Cato and Macro to adjust to the contrast. Then Cato could see a few of the nobles resting quietly along the benches lining each side of the hall. Discarded cups and the remains of a meal lay on wooden platters strewn along the wide wooden tables. Lying stretched out on the floor were the dim shapes of hunting dogs - all still, save one bitch who was licking one of the puppies nestling against her side. Overhead, a few stray beams of light pierced the thatch and shafted through the gloom.

‘Not everyone is hard at work,’ Macro sneered. Then they heard the sharp ring of swords clashing through the smaller doorway directly opposite. ‘Sounds like one of ‘em at least is working up a sweat.’

They walked towards the rear entrance of the hall and screwed up their eyes as they emerged into the bright sunshine that filled the timber doorframe. Behind the great hall was a wide bare space contained by the far palisade of the royal enclosure. Several racks of spears and swords stood to one side. A handful of the royal bodyguard sat in the shade against the side of the great hall, watching the display taking place in the centre of the training area. There, bathed in the bright sunshine, stood tribune Quintillus, poised on the balls of his feet, sword arm fully extended towards the British warrior ten feet in front of him. Cato caught his breath at the sight of the tribune. Quintillus looked superb. Stripped to the waist, his perfect physique would have graced a champion gladiator: the oiled skin glistened over perfectly contoured muscles and his chest swelled and subsided in an easy rhythm as he faced his opponent.