‘Wrong!’ Narcissus snapped back before the patrician could launch into any high-flown rhetoric about Rome’s manifest destiny and the need for each generation to extend the limits of the Empire’s glory. ‘There is nothing in this world that doesn’t have a price. Nothing! Sometimes the price is paid in gold. Sometimes in blood, but it is always paid. The Emperor needs victory in Britain to make his position safe. That will cost Rome the lives of many thousands of its finest troops. That’s regrettable. But we can rectify that. There will always be more men. What we can’t afford to do is lose one more emperor. The murder of Caligula nearly brought the Empire to its knees. If Claudius’ claim to the title hadn’t been seized on by the Praetorian Guard we’d have had another civil war - power-mad generals tearing the legions to pieces in their pursuit of glory. In a short time the Empire would have become nothing more than a closed chapter in the histories of fallen powers. What sane man would wish that on the world?’

‘Very nice. Very elegantly put,’ said Plautius.’But what’s this got to do with me?’

Narcissus sighed patiently. ‘Your slow progress is costing us dearly. It’s costing the Emperor a loss of reputation. It’s nearly a year now since he had a triumph to celebrate victory in Britain. And still I receive requests for more troops. More weapons. More supplies.’

‘We’re just mopping up.’

‘No. Mopping up is what you do after you’ve beaten the enemy. What you’re doing is soaking up resources. This island is like a sponge. It’s continually sucking in men, money and political capital. How much longer is this going to go on, my dear General?’

‘As I said in my reports, we’re making progress. Slowly but steadily. We’re forcing Caratacus back mile by mile. Very soon he will have to turn and fight us.’

‘How soon, General? Another month? Another year? Longer than that?’

‘A matter of days, as it happens.’

‘Days?’ Narcissus looked doubtful. ‘Please explain.’

‘Gladly. Caratacus and his army are camped less than ten miles away.’ Plautius gestured to the west. ‘He knows we’re here, and knows that we’re expecting him to fall back when we advance, as he has done every time. However, when we next push forward it’s his plan to cross the Tamesis at a series of fords not far from here, march round behind us and lay waste to all those tribes we’ve subdued south of the Tamesis. He might even try to steal a large enough advance on us to storm the supply base at Londinium. It’s a sound enough plan.’

‘Indeed. And how did you come to know of it?’

‘One of his senior chiefs is an agent of mine.’

‘Really? First I’ve heard of it.’