‘Come closer!’ Cato pointed directly below the palisade. After a moment’s hesitation Tincommius began to walk slowly towards them. The two centurions quickly made their way down the ramp and while Macro gave the order to open the gate, Cato gathered two sections of legionaries in case there was any attempt by the Durotrigans to rush the entrance to Calleva. As the gate creaked open, just wide enough to allow a man to squeeze through, Cato could see the Atrebatan prince waiting for them on the far side. He reached for a torch being held by one of the legionaries.

‘Leave that!’ Macro snapped. ‘Want to make a fine target of yourself?’

Cato lowered his hand.

‘Come on then, lad. Let’s see what Tincommius is playing at.’

Macro led the way, easing himself through the gap and stepping aside for Cato, all the while keeping a close watch on the man waiting for them. With Cato at his side he slowly walked forward until they were two sword lengths away from Tincommius.

‘What’s going on?’ Macro growled.

‘What do you think?’ Tincommius replied with a thin smile.

‘I’m too tired, and too pissed off for games. Get on with it.’

‘We want you to surrender.’

‘We?’

‘My allies out there.’ Tincommius jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, then nodded at the Calleva gateway. ‘And in there.’

‘You’ve sold us out mighty quickly,’ Cato said softly. ‘How long did it take them to make you change sides, you coward?’

‘Change sides?’ Tincommius arched his eyebrows. ‘I haven’t changed sides, Centurion. I’ve always been on the same side. The side that hates Rome, and all that it stands for. I’ve been waiting a long time for this. Working hard for it. Now, you will surrender and let me take my rightful position on the throne.’

Macro stared at the young nobleman and then turned to Cato with a harsh laugh. ‘He’s joking!’

‘No. No, he’s not.’ Cato felt sick inside; the hollow despairing ache of a man who has just realised how completely he has been fooled. By the light cast from the torches on the palisade above he looked Tincommius in the eye. ‘All the time we’ve served together?’

‘Longer. Much longer, Roman.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ Macro snorted. ‘Why do you think? The little lad here wants to be king. Problem is, your lot already have a king, traitor!’

Tincommius shrugged. ‘For the moment, maybe. But Verica will be dead in a few days, one way or another. Then I’m king. I’ll lead my people against the legions, at the side of Caratacus.’

‘You’re mad!’ Macro shook his head. ‘Once the general hears about this, the Atrebatans will be crushed like an egg under a millstone.’