‘The tribune is young and inexperienced. Tincommius judges him to be clever and if that is so he will listen to an older and wiser man like you.’ She gasped as his finger drew a circle on her breast, and for the moment said nothing, running her tongue over her lips. Her hand slipped down under the covers and smoothed his chest.

‘Tincommius does not want to fight Rome unless he has no choice,’ she said at long last. ‘He is strong, and has done much in the last ten years to become a great leader, but there is still much to do. There is little for him to gain and much to lose if he makes war on you.’

‘The tribune will be pleased to hear that. We want only peace with the high king.’

‘Others think differently.’ Her eyes looked straight into his and showed no emotion, even when his fondling became more vigorous, instead responding in the same way, running her fingers across his skin. ‘They hate the Romans and believe them to be rotten and weak, like a tree decayed from the inside. They cannot wait to set an axe to the trunk and topple it over.’

Ferox thought of the ranting Stallion and of the calm persuasiveness of the druid. It was odd that so many people wanted to talk to him and to enlist his aid.

‘Tincommius cannot be seen to be cowed by Rome or to show any fear. Great kings are never afraid, never forced to do anything. Many of his people yearn to take their spears against the Romans and dream of slaughter and spoils. There are chiefs who tolerate his overlordship only because they are afraid of his power. He is like a bear fighting hounds. They fear him, but it will only take one or two to attack and bite and slowly he will weaken.’ She moaned in pleasure, eyes staring up past him.

‘I did not tell you to stop,’ she told him when he thought that he might have gone too far, so Ferox resumed. For a while she panted, her hand back on her own body.

‘The Stallion preaches war, and he is a guest of the high king?’ Ferox said.

‘He has been useful – a way to win over men who would have been more reluctant without the promise of help from the heavens. He wants war and Tincommius does not. The high king will not be ordered about by any man, least of all such as him.