‘Nonsense. I was afraid you would be too busy with your paperwork to join us. I know, from all my years in exile, that you Romans are sticklers for making reports,’ Verica smiled. ‘But now Cadminius has found you. You are most welcome. There are two seats for you at the high table when the food is served. If it’s ever served.’ He turned towards Cadminius and made some sharp remarks that clearly stung the captain of the bodyguard. At his master’s bidding he trotted off towards a small door at the rear of the hall. Through the small opening Macro could glimpse bodies stripped to the waist, glistening as they laboured over suckling pigs slowly roasting over cooking fires. The prospect of some juicy roast pork after several days of field rations made Macro’s mouth water.

‘Tell me, Centurion Macro, what are your plans for my cohorts now?’ asked Verica.

‘Plans?’ Macro frowned. ‘I suppose we keep training them. They’re, er, they’re still a bit rough around the edges.’

‘Rough?’ Verica looked a little unhappy.

‘Nothing that a bit of hard drilling won’t improve,’ Macro rushed on. ‘Ain’t that right, Cato?’

‘Yes, sir. A man can never have enough drilling.’

Macro shot him a warning look; this was no time for irony. ‘Lads can’t ever have enough drilling. Keeps them honed and ready to fight the enemy at any moment. You’ll see the benefit of it soon enough, my lord.’

‘Centurion, I want soldiers - not martinets. I want soldiers for the sole reason of killing my enemies . . . wherever they may be found.’ With the lightest wave of his slender hands Verica indicated the figures crowding his great hall.

Cato felt a chill tingle the length of his spine at the king’s words. He glanced quickly at the nearest faces amongst the guests, wondering how many amongst them harboured treachery towards their leader. Verica had noticed the change in the young officer’s expression and laughed softly.

‘Relax, Centurion! I doubt I’m in much danger, for tonight at least, thanks to your victory over the Durotrigans and their allies. We must enjoy the interlude for as long as it lasts. I merely wished to discover what plans you two have for taking the campaign to the Durotrigans.’

‘Campaign?’ Macro was startled. ‘There’s no campaign, my lord. The ambush was a one-off - a lucky chance we seized and made the most of. That’s all there is to it. The cohorts, your cohorts, were only raised to protect Calleva and the supply convoys, my lord.’

‘And yet they’ve proved their worth in the field. Why not make the most of the opportunity? Why not lead them against the enemy directly? Why not?’

‘My lord, it’s not as simple as that.’

‘Simple?’ Verica’s smile abruptly disappeared.

Cato swallowed nervously and interceded to save Macro any further discomfort.