‘Enough!’ Tincommius shouted and held up one hand. ‘Enough,’ he repeated, calmly this time. ‘This is my hall and you are all guests. Let him go, Gannascus.’ The German did so with obvious reluctance. The priest stood still, his whole body quivering.

‘Keep your blade in its sheath, centurion,’ the high king said. ‘Your deed was an honourable one and it seems that you now have best claim.’ He pointed to the boar. ‘Take the portion of the champion and eat it with pride.’

The Stallion’s eyes had rolled up so that only the whites could be seen. He was still shaking, froth at his lips. ‘They will die,’ he said, quieter now, but in a voice suddenly deeper even than the big German’s. ‘All will burn and all will die.’ He sagged, shoulders slumping, and then he fell flat on the floor, his limbs twitching as he writhed. Some men touched wheels of Taranis like the one Vindex wore and others made different signs to ward off evil. The German looked down at him in contempt.

‘Come,’ the high king said. ‘This is a feast, not a funeral, and there is plenty more to eat and drink at my table.’

When Ferox got back to the table he saw that Crispinus had fallen back and was fast asleep. He wondered how much the tribune had seen, and wondered even more whether he had missed his best chance to kill the priest and end the matter. The Stallion lay where he had collapsed, limbs twitching now and again.

‘Good,’ the German said as he squatted down beside him, and devoured yet more meat. The king had given him the second cut from the boar, but that did not last long and soon he demanded a great joint of mutton. ‘Good,’ he said again, although surely this time his admiration was for the food.

After half an hour Ferox got up and left the hall to relieve himself. A guard gestured towards a stretch of wicker fence over to the right which was clearly kept for such matters. A thin man in a long drab cloak was already there and Ferox heard splashing as he approached. After a little fumbling with the ties on his breeches and drawers, he was able to add his own steaming stream.

His companion let out a contented sigh, although there was no sign of his finishing. ‘There are many joys in life,’ he said, ‘a great many, but in the moment itself how many can truly compare to the relief of emptying a full bladder?’