‘But, my lord,’ Cato protested, ‘you are an ally of Rome, not some vassal.’

‘Really? And what might the difference be in the long run? Ask your tribune. Ask him what will happen to us when Rome eventually crushes Caratacus.’

Cato translated, and silently prayed that the tribune would phrase his response carefully.

Quintillus replied with no trace of his usual cordiality. ‘King Verica, I’d have thought you’d be a bit more grateful to the Emperor. Why, if it wasn’t for us you’d still be stuck in some backroom suite at the Governor’s palace in Lutetia. You’ve done well by Rome, and as long as you stay a loyal ally you will continue to do well.’

‘And you will leave us be?’ Verica replied in Latin. ‘Leave us to rule ourselves?’

‘Of course! As long as it’s expedient.’ Quintillus drew himself up stiffly. ‘You have my word.’

‘Your word?’ Verica tipped his head to one side with an amused expression, as he turned towards Tincommius. ‘You see, Tincommius? That’s the choice before us. The certainty of being conquered if Caratacus wins against the probability of being turned into a province if Rome wins.’

‘It might not ever happen,’ said Cato.

‘It is happening already, Centurion. I know the full scope of the tribune’s powers, as I’m sure do you and Centurion Macro. It’s time that his orders are revealed.’

Cato forced himself not to glance at Artax, and flashed a warning glance at Macro, but he needn’t have bothered. The older centurion was fighting back a yawn and his eyelids were heavy with the desire for sleep.

‘Tribune,’ Verica continued, ‘why not tell us the real purpose of your visit to Calleva? What were your instructions? The ones you discussed with me two days ago?’

‘Sir, that was in strictest confidence.’

‘It won’t be. Not in a few more weeks. I may not be alive then. My closest kinsmen, Tincommius and Artax, need to know the full truth. Tell us now.’

Tribune Quintillus pressed his lips together as he considered the best response to make. In the end he took the least honourable way out.

‘I can’t. My orders were specific - I should tell only you. A soldier never disobeys orders.’

‘Very brave of you,’ Verica replied scathingly. ‘Well then, I’ll have to break the news. Your General Plautius fears that our people will not honour the treaty I made with Rome. Accordingly, he has . . . what was the word? . . . requested! He has requested me to be ready to disband the two cohorts as soon as he gives the word.’

As Cato translated, Macro sat up abruptly, wide-eyed and angry. Tincommius and Artax were similarly shocked.

‘There’s worse news, far worse,’ Verica continued. ‘As well as the disbanding, he requires that every single Atrebatan warrior is disarmed, and the weapons are to be . . . placed beyond use. I believe that was the expression.’