‘What’s the party for?’

There was a low chuckle.’The party? Why, that’s being held in honour of all the Roman heads our warriors are going to take tomorrow!’

‘Oh, right . . . So only your warriors are feasting then. Not your women, or your children . . . not you.’

‘Shut your mouth, Roman!’ the older guard shouted. ‘Before I come in there and shut it for you. For ever!’

There was a pause before one of the youths continued, ‘Why can’t we have a drink?’

‘You want a drink, eh?’ the older warrior replied.’You really want a drink?’

‘Yes.’

‘Think you can handle it?’

‘Of course I can!’ the youth shot back indignantly.

‘Me too,’ his friend added.

‘Well then,’ the warrior lowered his voice into a conspiratorial tone. ‘You two stay here, and I’ll go over and see what I can find for us.’

‘What about the prisoners?’

‘Them? They’re quiet enough. Just keep a close eye on them until I get back.’

‘How long’ll you be?’

‘Long as it takes,’ the warrior chuckled, as he turned and strode away towards the raucous festivities.

Inside the pen Cato felt his pulse quicken, and he twisted round, groping with his tied hands for a small gap in the wicker weave behind his head. He thrust his fingers in and gently prised two thick lengths apart, just wide enough for him to see outside. A short distance away the warrior was just disappearing behind a hut. Beyond him the gently sloping thatched roofs of the surrounding huts were rimmed with a bright glow from the fires, and here and there sparks swirled up into the night. Cato strained his neck and pressed his face closer to the gap. To one side he could just see the two boys who had been left on guard. They were armed with war spears and stood close to the pen, their features sketched in by soft strokes of light from the loom of the fires. Boys they may be, but they looked quite capable of killing a man if they needed to. Cato turned back and grasped his optio’s arm.

Figulus had not been asleep, but lost in thought and he stirred anxiously. ‘What? What is it?’

‘Shhh!’ Cato tightened his grip.’Be quiet. One of the guards has gone.’

‘So?’

‘Now’s our chance. Now, or never.’

‘What you going to do about these?’ Figulus raised his hands and nodded at the leather thongs binding his wrists.

Cato ignored him and, reaching down, he pulled up the hem of his tunic and started groping around inside his soiled loincloth. Figulus looked at him and shrugged. ‘Well, I suppose there’s always time for one last-’

‘Quiet!’ Cato struggled for a moment and then withdrew his hands, and opened one palm to reveal a small flint with a sharp edge chipped on to one side. ‘Give me your hands.’