‘Yes. Ugly and bloody dangerous. If you find yourself on the ground facing one, watch those tusks. I’ve seen ‘em carve a man up really nicely. Didn’t kill him straight off. His wounds got infected with some poison they carry on the tusks. Must have been agony. He died screaming a few days later . . .’

‘Thanks for that. Feel so much happier now.’

‘You’ll be all right,’ Macro laughed, slapping his companion on the shoulder. ‘Just stick close to me and watch your back.’

‘Someone else could use that advice,’ Cato muttered, nodding at the king and his nobles gathered about the fire and toasting each other with beer. Artax was standing close by the side of his king. Cato noticed that he was not drinking like the others, but seemed distracted. As well he might, Cato reflected. Verica was old. In months, maybe even weeks, Artax would be ruler of the Atrebatans. That kind of prospect was likely to turn a man’s mind from the here and now. It was vexing Cato almost as much. Would King Artax be every bit as fiercely proud and prickly as Artax the young nobleman? If so, what hope was there for good relations between the Atrebatans and Rome? But maybe Verica was right. The old king was shrewd enough to see that the Atrebatans needed a ruler who would offend the least number of people and in that respect Artax was indeed a wise choice. But would he be wise enough in turn to see where the only possible destiny of his people lay?

‘Verica’s safe enough,’ said Macro, ‘now that he’s got Artax onside.’

‘Yes. I suppose. But I still don’t trust him. He’s up to something.’

‘You’re jumping at shadows.’

‘Shadows don’t kill people.’

‘No.’ Macro raised his head to the sky and squinted round. ‘Come on then. Doesn’t look like it’s going to get any warmer or drier.’

They just had time to grab a hunk of cold mutton and a small loaf of bread when Cadminius sounded his horn to summon everyone to the hunt. Mouths full, and chewing frantically Cato and Macro stuffed the remains of their barely started meal into their haversacks and hurried over to the horseline. The hunting party heaved themselves on to the backs of their ponies and made themselves comfortable before reaching for the spears their slaves held ready for them. Verica was helped on to his mount, and Artax roughly pushed aside a slave to make sure that it was he who helped his king into the saddle. Verica looked down and smiled warmly, before reaching over to pat Artax on the shoulder.

‘Touching, isn’t it?’ Macro muttered. ‘Nothing quite like having someone throw a kingdom your way to improve your manners.’

Tincommius urged his horse over towards the two centurions.

‘Good morning!’ Cato called out to him.

‘Good? Is it good?’ Tincommius replied sourly.