‘He begs the king not to proceed with this, that such an atrocity will turn the people against him.’

Verica angrily shouted Artax down and gestured to Cadminius to remove the nobleman. Artax continued to shout his protests, even after the captain of the bodyguard had grasped his arm, wrenched Artax towards the entrance of the great hall and thrust him outside. Without any further delay Cadminius strode over to the huddle of prisoners, took the nearest man by the chain binding his wrists together, and dragged him into the centre of the hall. Left alone, the prisoner struggled desperately against his bonds and screamed for help. The dog handlers unleashed the hunting dogs and snapped their fingers to attract the animals’ attention. The victim was pointed out, then there was a moment’s awful silence, even from the prisoner, who watched the dogs, transfixed. Then the word of command was given and the dogs leaped on the helpless man. He screamed, shrill and terrified as the dogs mauled his face, struggling to reach his throat. Then the screams were muffled, and there was only a gurgling whimper. Then nothing. The man went limp. The dogs jerked the corpse around like a straw training dummy.

There were cheers from the crowd. But as Cato looked round it was clear that many of the guests were horrified by the spectacle, and they watched in silence.

‘Shit . . .’ muttered Macro. ‘Shit . . . That’s no way for a man to die.’

‘Not even a traitor?’ Tincommius said acidly.

The handlers pulled the dogs back from the body. It was no easy task now that their killer instincts had been roused. Two men dragged the body away as Cadminius selected his next victim and dragged the man out on to the blood-smeared flagstones where the first man had died. Cato looked towards Verica, hoping that the king might change his mind, even now. But the cold look of satisfaction on Verica’s face was clear for all to see.

Cato nudged Macro as he stood up. ‘I have to go. I can’t watch this.’

Macro turned towards him and Cato was surprised to see that even this hardened veteran had seen more than he could stomach.

‘Wait for me, lad.’

Macro heaved himself off the table, and struggled to find his legs under the influence of all the beer he had drunk that evening. ‘Give me a hand here. Tincommius, we’ll see you in the depot tomorrow.’

Without tearing his eyes away from the fate of the second man Tincommius nodded faintly.