For a brief while Cato feared that Macro would explode and not rest easy until he had ripped the Atrebatan prince limb from limb with his bare hands. Then Macro took a deep breath, his nostrils flared, and he nodded.

‘All right . . . All right then, you bastard. Have your say.’

‘Most gracious of you. I want you and your men to leave Calleva and rejoin the Second Legion. You may take your weapons with you, and I guarantee your safe passage . . . as far as the legion.’

Macro snorted contemptuously. ‘And your word is worth . . . what? A pile of shit.’

‘Quiet!’ Cato cut in. ‘Why should we leave?’

‘You can’t defend the walls, not with that handful of legionaries, and whatever’s left of the two cohorts. If you try to resist then you will only die, and many of the people of Calleva will die with you. I’m giving you a chance to save all those lives. Life or death. That’s what’s on offer.’

‘What happens after we leave?’ Cato asked.

‘Surely you can guess? I finish Verica off and tell the people of Calleva that Verica is dead. The council makes me king, and any man who is misguided enough to oppose an immediate alliance with Caratacus is disposed of. Then we tear your supply columns to pieces.’

‘In that case, you know we can’t surrender.’

‘I was rather hoping you’d say that. Still, I’m in no hurry. I’ll give you till dawn to make up your minds. By then there won’t be many Atrebatans left who’ll be willing to fight on your side. Not after I’ve told them that it was you who attacked their king.’

‘What makes you think you’ll live long enough to tell them?’ Macro snarled.

Tincommius smiled nervously, and took a step back. This was too much for Macro, and he violently shook off Cato’s restraining hand and whipped his sword out of its scabbard. ‘You little prick! I’ve had my fill of you.’

Tincommius turned and sprinted away towards the ring of darkness surrounding Calleva. With an incoherent shout of rage Macro charged after him before Cato could react. The young centurion instinctively dived at his friend’s legs and drove Macro to the ground. By the time both men were back on their feet Tincommius was no more than a shadow fading into the night. Enraged, Macro rounded on Cato.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

‘Get inside the gate!’ Cato ordered. ‘Quick!’

Macro was having none of it, and raised the point of his sword threateningly. Suddenly, an arrow whacked into the gate close by, then more whirred out of the darkness, splintering the weathered surface of the timbers. Without another word Macro dived back through the narrow gap behind Cato, and the gate was hurriedly closed in the face of the invisible enemy.