He didn’t finish the sentence, and just looked away with a weary expression. The legate walked slowly to the front of the vessel and leaned over the bow rail. Macro and Cato watched him for a moment before Macro spoke.

‘You have to hand it to Caratacus. Never say die.’

Cato nodded and said quietly, ‘At least he was kind enough not to escape before we got full credit for his capture.’

Macro looked at Cato wide-eyed. Then he roared with laughter and slapped his friend on the shoulder. Cato winced.

With the last of his passengers on board, the captain gave the order to cast off and two large sweeps were lowered over the sides. With the crew straining at the long oars the ship was slowly rowed out into the channel, until the Ajax was clear of the other vessels. Then the oars were shipped and the sails unfurled. A light breeze carried them out to sea where the wind strengthened, the mainsail filling up like a pot belly. The bow rose and fell as it met the ocean swell. Cato and Macro moved to the back of the ship and leaned on the stern rail, watching the coast gradually slip away until Britain was no more than a vague outline on the horizon. At that point Macro lost interest, and wandered forward to the main mast to try to interest some of the crew in a game of dice.

Cato stayed at the rail, wondering why he suddenly felt so emotional at the disappearance of the land where he had suffered so much pain, so much loss, and seen more than enough cruelty to last him a lifetime. He should feel relieved to be quitting the island, he thought. Instead, he felt a peculiar emptiness, like he was leaving some essential part of himself on those shores. A moment later, the stern of the vessel reared up and Cato had one final sight of the distant land, then the Ajax swooped down the far side of the swell and Britain disappeared for good.

A little later Cato sensed a presence at his shoulder and glanced back. Macro was standing there, looking into the creamy wake behind the ship. ‘Seems no one on this bloody ship is prepared to gamble with a centurion.’

‘Can you blame them?’ Cato smiled.

‘I don’t suppose you-’

‘No.’

‘Oh, right.’ Macro did not hide his disappointment. ‘What are you moping about here for?’