Sons and daughters of a fucking cow, insult our Father’s daughter!

Second Village Woman Kill the bastards –

First Village Man Ham string ’em, let ’em drag ’emselves away on their elbows!

Mother Yes yes yes yes! We’ve had the meal. We’ve had the formal talk. We’ve had the insults. Yes yes yes!

A silence.

So. You want the fighting men and women of the farms under my protection to run off south, over the Thames, eh?

And the farms left behind? What will they do? Lie here with their legs in the air, fat, fine slobbery pigs, bellies to be ripped open and gorged, eh? With the harvest nearly come? Eh?

While my children, my brothers and my daughters, splash about on the South Coast, hunting Romans that aren’t there, eh?

A trick!

Tell Cassivellaunel I still think fondly of his old cock and – tell him to take it in both hands and piss up his arsehole. One pleasantry one insult. He’ll know what I mean.

First Envoy The Roman Army is there. I have seen it.

Third Village Man See your own fart, floating up your nose.

No laughter. A silence.

First Envoy The Roman Army moves through this island. A ship of horror. Smashing the woods and farms. Animals run before it. The ship of horror in the water, pushing before it the animals, men, women and children of the farms. Even in this backwater can’t you feel it?

They have come from the other side of the World. And they are one. One whole.

Thirty thousand men. Can you, now, see yourself on a beach, the shingle, the tide coming in, and upon it ships with thirty thousand men, eight hundred ships, all one whole? ‘Eh? Eh? Eh?’ ‘Yes? Yes? Yes?’

A silence.

Understand. The Romans are different. They are – (He gestures, trying to find the word. He fails. He tries again.) A nation. Nation. What? A great family? No. A people? No. They are one, huge thing.

First Village Woman He’s shit frightened.

Second Village Woman Get away from our farms. Before your blood’s on our fields.

First Envoy It’s an act of truth. What I tell you.

A silence

I have made an act of truth.

The First Village Woman stoops, picks up a handful of earth and throws it at the Envoys, not hard, formally. A silence.

Second Envoy You won’t defend your fields? You –

The First Envoy stops him, a hand on his arm.

First Envoy We crossed your boundary, unharmed. We leave it now, unharmed.

The Mother waves them away. The Envoys take a few steps back, then turn and walk off quickly.

Third Village Man We ought’ve – whipped their horses into the woods! Sent ’em off with chicken shit down their necks! Let the wild pigs, ride ’em back to Casivellaunel!

Fourth Village Man We were the hosts, they were the guests –

Mother We can talk about it all day. Or we can work.

Fourth Village Man The family must be happy Mother. Happy in its mind.