To his surprise Cato felt a great swell of sympathy rise up within him. Caratacus, so long the ruthless and tireless enemy, was in the end a man. A man tired of war, yet so versed in its lore, from the very first moment that he was old enough to bear a weapon, that he did not know how to make peace. Cato watched him for a moment, almost tempted to offer his enemy some word of encouragement, or even sympathy. Then Caratacus stirred, aware that the Roman was still in his presence. He blinked, then straightened up on his chair.

‘What are you waiting for, Roman? Get out.’

As he was escorted back to the foul-smelling pen where the prisoners were still being held Cato felt his spirits rise for the first time in many days. No, even longer than that, he reflected. After two long and bloody campaign seasons it seemed that the enemy was close to accepting defeat. The more he thought about the words and demeanour of his captor the more Cato was certain that the man wanted to have peace for his people. After a most desperate and determined attempt to defeat the legions, even he had recognised that Rome’s resolve to make the island a part of the Empire was unshakeable.

In truth, Cato knew he had been deceitful in his responses to Caratacus. The charge that the natives’ resistance to Rome was futile rang hollow in Cato’s mind. The legions had been forced to fight almost every mile of the distance they had advanced across this island. Always watching their flanks, glancing anxiously over their shoulders, tensely waiting for the enemy to charge in, kill quickly, and then disappear and look for the next chance to whittle down the invaders.

The legionaries who were still awake in the pen barely looked up when Cato was shoved through the gap in the fence and chained back to the others. Figulus at once shuffled closer to his centurion.

‘You all right, sir?’

‘Yes . . . fine.’

‘What did he want?’

It was the same question Figulus asked each time that the officer returned from his interrogation and Cato smiled at the routine they had settled into.

‘I think we might get out of this alive after all.’

Cato quietly related what Caratacus had said, and what he had observed.’But keep it to yourself. No point in building up the men’s hopes if I’m wrong.’

Figulus nodded. ‘But you think he’s going to do it? Surrender?’

‘Not surrender. He’s too proud for that. He’ll never surrender. But he might do something just short of that.’

‘That’ll do me, sir.’ Figulus smiled. ‘That’ll do nicely for us all.’