As Tincommius returned to his unit. Cato shook his head. It was important that Verica and the Atrebatans saw this victory as their own. This was no time to indulge himself in some petty triumph, much as the prospect of being hailed as a hero appealed to some craven spirit within him.

Besides, the victory had been easily won. The enemy had been careless. No doubt they had grown used to freely scouring the lands of the Atrebatans for easy pickings. When they were fast enough to elude the legions and strong enough to overcome any pitiful attempts at resistance offered to them by the Atrebatans, it was small wonder that they had fallen so readily into the trap. A successful ambush was one thing, but how would these barely trained men cope when drawn up in front of an enemy prepared to fight a pitched battle? How quickly would their current high spirits fail them? Their proud boasting would soon die away. Their mouths would dry up. The icy grip of fear would tighten on their imaginations, squeezing out every dark dread that plagued men poised on the threshold of battle.

Now that he had been appointed to the rank of centurion the impulse to scrutinise himself was worse than ever. Despite the vibrant mood of celebration washing around him on all sides, Cato was consumed by a bitter melancholy and had to force himself to smile as he turned and met the inane grin of Bedriacus the hunter as the latter raised the Wolf standard high over his head and waved it from side to side.

Ahead the excited crowd was spilling forwards along the sides of the two cohorts, and Verica’s bodyguards struggled to protect their king from being jostled. The cheers of the people of Calleva were ringing in Cato’s ears as their ruddy features beamed into his face and rough hands clapped him on the shoulders. All attempt at preserving any sense of marching discipline collapsed and the men of the two cohorts merged with the rest of their folk. Here and there proud warriors were holding up the heads of their enemies for family and friends to admire. Cato felt a little sickened by the display, much as he had come to like and, in some small way, admire these men. Once the island had been pacified, the Atrebatans might be induced to adopt more civilised ways, but for now he must tolerate the quaint traditions of the Celtic way of war.