‘I don’t trust anyone,’ Macro replied in a furious undertone. ‘Not Artax. Not Tincommius and certainly not that oily shit of a tribune. You start messing with the likes of them and you’ll get us both killed.’

When the hunting party reached the edge of the forest the horsemen spread out along the tree line. Cadminius found Macro and Cato and told them to take up position close to the king, along with Artax, Tincommius and Cadminius himself.

‘Why?’ asked Macro.

‘He needs men around him he can trust,’ Cadminius replied quietly.

‘What about them?’ Macro nodded towards the king’s bodyguards, who hung back behind the hunting party and formed a screen a short distance from the tree line.

‘They’ll make far too much noise if they stick close to the king. Scare all the boars away.’

‘Doesn’t he think that’s a bit risky?’ asked Cato.

Cadminius shook his head wearily. ‘You’ve seen how he is these last few months. He’s growing old and he knows it. He wants to get as much out of what’s left of his life as he can. You can’t blame him.’

‘I might not, but his people might.’

Cadminius shrugged as he turned his horse away. ‘We’re his people, Centurion. He can do as he likes.’

Once the hunting party was settled in position they waited for the first sounds of the beaters. The horses lowered their heads and grazed on the wet grass while their riders sat quietly on their backs, spears resting across their thighs. The rain continued to patter a gentle drizzle on the leaves of the trees and soaked through the clothes of the hunting party. Cato’s hair was soon plastered across his scalp and irritating rivulets began to trickle down his nose. With a muttered curse he pulled the cold mutton from his haversack, placed the bag on his head and sat there miserably chewing on the stringy meat waiting for the hunt to begin. As he sat, he wondered about the wisdom of having Artax so close to the king. Chosen successor he might be, but given the man’s impatient and impetuous nature would Artax be willing to wait for his benefactor to die a natural death? It was as well that Macro, himself, Cadminius and Tincommius were close at hand, and Cato resolved to stay near to the king in the coming hunt.

‘Cato!’ Macro called out from twenty paces away. Macro pointed towards the trees. ‘Listen!’