‘I’m all right . . . all right.’

Cato leaned closer to him, talking quickly and quietly. ‘Sire, you must tell them who attacked you. You must let them know that Tincommius is a traitor.’

‘Traitor?’ the king repeated with a hurt expression.

‘Sire, please. That man’s life depends on it.’ Cato pointed towards Figulus.

Verica stared at the kneeling Roman, and his nephew for a moment, and then coughed - a terrible racking cough that left him breathless and clutching his head, wincing at the agony. Then he forced himself to stand as straight as possible and called out to his countrymen at the end of the street.

‘It was Tincommius . . . Tincommius who attacked me.’

‘It was Artax!’ Tincommius screamed. ‘It was Artax! I saved the king!’

Verica shook his head sadly.

‘He lies!’ Tincommius cried out in desperation. ‘The king is being forced to lie by those Romans! See them beside him! Making him say this.’

‘No!’ Verica shouted, his voice cracking with the effort. ‘It was you, my nephew! YOU!’

The warriors at the end of the street turned to look at the prince, and he was aware of the doubt and contempt in their faces.

‘He lies, I tell you!’

Cato tore his gaze away from the drama and called out to his men. ‘Mandrax!’

‘Here, Centurion!’

‘Pick twenty men, and get ready to fetch those prisoners when the gate opens.’

‘What are you up to?’ asked Macro. ‘What did you say?’

‘I’m going to try to get Tincommius if I can. Then return here as fast as possible.’

‘You’re quite mad,’ said Macro, but made no attempt to stop him when Cato climbed down from the gate, snatched up his helmet and shield and turned to the legionaries positioned there. ‘When I give the order I want the gate opened as fast as you can.’

His heart was beating fast with the anticipation of renewed action, and all the exhaustion of earlier had disappeared as Cato’s senses quickened. As soon as Mandrax and his party were ready, Cato drew a breath and shouted, ‘Open the gate!’

The legionaries slipped the restraining bar to one side and dragged the gate back.

‘Follow me!’ Cato called over his shoulder and ran out into the street. He made towards the men clustered around Tincommius, and resisted the impulse to draw his sword; it was vital that he did not look as if he was about to attack them. Tincommius turned towards the enclosure and thrust his arm out towards Cato.

‘Get them!’

‘Wolves! Boars!’ Cato called out. ‘Hold him. Hold Tincommius!’

For a horrible instant, Tincommius’ men turned towards Cato and the centurion was sure they would fight, that he had badly misjudged their mood. But they simply stood their ground and watched as Cato and his men quickly covered the short distance from the gate. Tincommius looked round at his men with a terrified expression and then he turned and ran.