Caratacus had presented him with a neat paradox: if he continued to advance, his supplies would be cut off; yet if he concentrated on safeguarding his supply lines, the advance would be stalled. Further north General Plautius’ forces were already stretched perilously thin, and almost none was available for strengthening the convoy escorts, or garrisoning the way stations and this vital depot at Calleva. The miserable show put on by the garrison that afternoon was indicative of the calibre of the men who could be spared for such duties. What Vespasian needed now, more than anything else, was manpower. Fit and well-trained. But, he realised with teeth-clenching bitterness, he might as well wish for the moon.

There was a further problem. The commander of the garrison was dead. Veranius had been an adequate enough officer - adequate enough to be spared for this command - but the Second Legion could ill afford to send another centurion from the campaign being waged against the hillforts. As always, the casualty rate amongst centurions was disproportionately high, given their duty to lead from the front. There were already a number of centuries being commanded by optios, hardly a satisfactory state of affairs . . .

It was at that point that a messenger had arrived from Verica requesting Vespasian’s presence at the earliest convenience.

All of this weighed heavily on his mind as the legate made his way along the dark streets of Calleva, taking care not to slip on the mud and ordure beneath his boots. Here and there orange pools of light spilled across the rutted streets from the open doorways of native huts. Inside, Vespasian could see families clustered about their hearth-fires, but few seemed to be eating.

A tall gateway loomed ahead of the legate and his escort, and two Atrebatan warriors with spears stepped out of the shadows at the sound of approaching footsteps. They lowered the broad leaf-shaped tips of their spears until they could recognise the legate in the gloom. Then they stepped aside and one of the sentries pointed towards the large rectangular building on the far side of the enclosure. As the Romans crossed the open space Vespasian looked round keenly and noted the stables, small thatched storage sheds and a couple of long, low timber-framed buildings within which the loud, raucous voices of men could be heard. This was how Atrebatan royalty lived then - a far cry from the palaces of kings in the distant eastern lands of the Empire. Another standard of civilisation altogether, Vespasian reflected, and one which Rome might just as well not have bothered with. It would take a very long time to raise these Britons up to the level where they could comfortably take their place alongside the more developed of the Empire’s subjects.