Then he was aware of Macro, on the far side of the wagon, following Cato’s lead as he drove a gap between it and the shrieking mob. The townspeople fell back from the two horses, just long enough for them to be aware of the tribune and the bodyguard charging down on them, drawn weapons glinting. Then in a stumbling tide the crowd swept back from the wagons, desperately seeking escape from the hoofs and blades of Verica’s warriors.

‘After them!’ Quintillus shouted, waving his sword at the retreating townspeople.

‘Hold still!’ Cato shouted in Celtic at the bodyguards. They paused. For a moment he feared that they would ignore him and ride the people down. Cato thrust his arm up. ‘Hold still, I said! Leave them alone. The wagons are safe.’

The bodyguards checked their mounts and lowered their weapons. Quintillus looked at them with a shocked, then enraged expression.

‘What do you think you’re doing? Get after them! Kill them!’

The warriors looked at him blankly and the tribune turned to Cato. ‘You speak this bloody barbaric language. Tell them to get after that mob! Before it’s too late.’

‘Too late for what, sir?’

‘What?’ The tribune glared at him. ‘Tell them! What are you waiting for, Centurion?’

Cato saw the crowd breaking into a loose mass, rushing back towards the gateway.

‘There’s no point now, sir.’

‘Just do it! Tell them!’ Quintillus screamed at him. ‘I command it!’

‘Yes, sir. At once.’ Cato saluted, turned to face the bodyguard and frowned. ‘Soon as I can remember the right words.’

The tribune’s face drained of blood as his mouth clenched in a tight line. Macro had to look away before he laughed, and he busied himself with an adjustment to his sword belt. He heard Cato click his fingers.

‘That’s it! I remember now! . . . Hey! Where’d they go?’

Tribune Quintillus glared at Centurion Cato for a long time, and Macro began to worry that his young friend had overstepped the mark. Then, as Verica’s bodyguard lowered their weapons and began to trot back towards the head of the small column, the tribune rammed his sword into its sheath and nodded slowly at Cato.

‘Very well, Centurion. So be it. This time you’ve had your way, but I’m warning you, if I detect one shred of disrespect or disobedience from you again, I’ll see to it that you’re finished with the Eagles. At the very best I’ll have you broken back to the ranks, on latrine duty, shovelling shit for the rest of your life.’

‘Shovelling shit. Yes, sir.’

Tribune Quintillus clenched his teeth angrily, then wheeled his mount, savagely dug his heels in and galloped it on towards the king and his entourage. The two centurions watched him go. Macro scratched the bristles on his chin and shook his head slowly.