‘One of them is a woman,’ the general intervened. ‘She will be your interpreter. The other was once a Druid initiate, in the order of the Dark Moon.’

‘The same as those bastards we ran into then,’ said Macro. ‘How can we be sure this one can be trusted, sir?’

‘I don’t know that we can trust him. But he’s the only one I could find who knows the area well and was willing to guide Romans inside Durotrigan territory. He’s aware of the risks. If he, and the woman, get discovered in the service of Rome then they’ll surely be killed.’

‘Unless they were to lead us into a trap, sir. Hand the Druids two more hostages to bargain with.’

Plautius gave the centurion a grim smile. ‘If they were prepared to murder a prefect of the navy to make a point then I doubt they would bother to treat two rankers as hostages. Centurion, make no mistake about this; if you’re taken by the enemy the very best you can hope for is a quick death.’

‘Put like that, sir, I’m not sure that I want to volunteer me and the lad for this mission of yours. It’d be plain madness.’

Plautius said nothing, but Cato could see that he was gripping the arms of his chair so hard that the tendons on his arm stood out like knotted wooden rods. When his fury had subsided a little, he spoke in a strained voice.

‘This isn’t easy for me, Centurion. The Druids are holding my family… Have you got a family?’

‘No, sir. Families get in the way of soldiering.’

‘I see. Then you can have little idea how much this affair torments me and how demeaning I find it having to ask you and the optio to find them for me.’

Macro pressed his lips tightly together to bite off his instinctive response. Then his usual calmness under pressure reasserted itself. ‘Permission to speak freely, sir?’

The general’s eyes narrowed. ‘Depends what you want to say.’

‘Very well, sir.’ Macro lifted his chin and stiffened to attention, still and silent.

‘All right, Centurion. Speak freely.’

‘Thank you, sir. I understand what you’re saying all right.’ His tone was brittle with fatigue and ill-concealed contempt. ‘You’re in a fix and you want me and my optio to stick our necks out for you. And because we’re plebs, we’re expendable. What chance have we got wandering around in the middle of enemy territory with a bloody woman and some quack magician? You’re sending us to our deaths, and you know it. But at least you will have tried something, to make yourself feel better. Meanwhile, the lad and I will have been parted from our heads, or burned alive. Does that sum the situation up… sir?’