‘No!’ Artax growled. ‘No! My lord, it can’t be. It’s not true. Say it’s not true!’

After his silence thus far, the awful anguish and outrage in Artax’s voice stilled the tongues of the others as the Atrebatan noble jumped to his feet. Verica reached out a hand, open-palmed, to calm his relative.

‘Artax, please . . .’

‘No! I will not surrender my arms! None of us will! We’d rather die.’

Cato translated the man’s outburst.

‘I’m sure the tribune’s happy to arrange that,’ Macro whispered to Cato as Artax continued to rant in Celtic. ‘And the bastard’s going to kill our cohorts.’

‘Quiet, please, sir.’ Cato tapped his friend’s arm.

Verica had risen from his stool and walked over to Artax, gently grasping him by the shoulders. ‘Think what you’re saying, Artax! Think! It is the Roman general’s order. If we resist it, then we are finished. They’ll crush us like an egg. We must disarm our people. We must disband the cohorts. Whatever the dishonour. Dishonour is better than death.’

‘Not for warriors!’ Artax spat back.

‘This isn’t about warriors. This is about all of our people. Do you think for a moment that the legions will stop to discriminate between the people they butcher? Do you?’ Verica shook him. ‘Well?’

‘No . . .’Artax admitted.

‘Then we have no choice . . . You have no choice.’

‘Me?’ Artax looked at his king closely. ‘What do you mean, sire?’

‘If I die, for whatever reason, in the near future, it is my wish that you will become king. I call these others to bear witness to my wish . . . Now do you see why you must carry out General Plautius’ order?’

Every face turned towards the king in astonishment. Then Cato looked round the men gathered by the dying fire. Tincommius was shocked and clearly fighting back some kind of emotion. Tribune Quintillus was surprised and then smiled contentedly. Verica simply looked relieved to have unburdened himself of this decision. Macro looked angry.

‘Me?’ Artax shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Why me?’

‘Yes,’ Tincommius said quietly. ‘Why him, Uncle? Why not me? You have no son, and I am your brother’s son. Why not me?’