‘I want to start the campaign early. At least, I want the Second Legion to start early. I’ve prepared orders for your legion to move into the territory of the Durotriges. You’re to crush every hill fort, every fortified settlement. There are to be no enemy warriors or Druids taken prisoner. I want every tribe in this island to know the cost of murdering a Roman prefect and taking Roman hostages. If the Druids and their Durotrigan friends have any sense they will return my wife and children at once, and sue for peace.’

‘And if they don’t?’

‘Then we’ll start killing our Druid captives, saving their leader for last. If that doesn’t move them, we’ll kill every living thing in our path.’ The dreadful determination in Plautius’s voice was unmistakable. ‘Nothing will be allowed to survive, do you understand?’

Vespasian did not reply. This was madness. Madness. Understandable, but madness all the same. None of it made any strategic sense. But he knew he had to handle the general carefully.

‘When do you want my legion to advance?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow!’ Vespasian almost laughed at the ridiculous notion. Almost, until he caught the intense gleam in the eyes of his superior. ‘It’s out of the question, sir.’

‘Why?’

‘Why? Where shall I start? The ground is not yet firm enough for my artillery carriages and heavy wagons to move. That means we can only carry food for three, maybe four days. And I haven’t the slightest idea about enemy capability.’

‘I’ve anticipated that. I’ve brought along a Briton who knows the area well. He was once a Druid initiate. He and his translator will act as your guides. As for your supplies, you can march on half rations to start with. Later on you can use the fleet to supply you by river, and I’ll send you all the light carts I can spare. You might even find some enemy food caches. Winter is almost over, but they’re bound to have stockpiles you can forage. And to enable you to assault enemy hill forts, I’ve arranged for the transfer of the Twentieth’s artillery to your unit…’

‘Even if we find their hill forts, we’ll have no fire support for any attack on the ramparts if the artillery gets bogged down. Our men will be slaughtered.’

‘How formidable could the defences be?’ Plautius snapped bitterly. After all, these savages haven’t even heard of siegecraft. All their ramparts and stockades are fit for is deterring the odd hungry wolf and itinerant trespasser. I’m sure a man of your ingenuity could manage to storm such defences without much loss of life. Or do you find commanding a legion too onerous, or dangerous, a duty?’