‘Fuck you.’ Cato spoke in Latin. A smile flickered across his lips and then he spat into the warrior’s face. His mouth had been dry and it was more air than spittle that struck the warrior. Even so, it had the desired effect and Cato doubled up as the man slammed a fist into his stomach. He sank to his knees, doubled over and gasping for breath, but Cato’s ears rang with the cries of support and defiance from the legionaries. The warrior grabbed the centurion by the hair and yanked him back to his feet.

‘How funny was that, Roman? Next time I’ll crush your balls like eggs. Then you’ll never get to speak like a man again. Let’s go.’

He threw Cato out of the byre and as he followed he noticed a guard approaching with the basket of food for the prisoners. As the guard neared the entrance to the byre the warrior suddenly lashed out with his fist and knocked the basket flying, scattering the scraps all around. At once a handful of chickens scurried over from beside the nearest hut and began to peck at the stale morsels. The warrior nodded in satisfaction before he turned back to the startled guard. ‘No food for the Romans today.’

The guard nodded and warily bent down to retrieve the basket as the warrior clamped a hand round Cato’s arm and dragged him away into the heart of the camp. The evening meal was being prepared and the smells of cooking filled the air, tormenting Cato even as he slowly caught his breath. Despite the agony in his stomach he was still aware enough to keep looking around as he was hauled through the camp. There were many warriors here, tough-looking men who looked up as the warrior passed through them with his prisoner. Cured meat hung from racks, and grain pits were filled almost to the brim. These men clearly had the will and supplies to continue the fight and act as a cadre around which further resistance to Rome could be built. If the legions were ever to bring this island under the control of the Emperor then these men had to be utterly destroyed, Cato realised. Not that it was his problem any more. He was no longer a Roman soldier. Indeed, it was almost certain that he would not be anything in the near future. Perhaps he was even now being dragged to his execution - a sacrifice for some druid ritual of the night.