‘I admit it won’t stand up to much scrutiny, but it might buy you time, should you need it. Prasutagus may be remembered in some parts, which should count for something. You and the optio should stay out of sight as far as possible and let Prasutagus and Boudica approach the Durotriges or any settlements you come across. They’ll listen for news of my family. Follow up any leads for as long as it takes, and find them.’

‘I thought we only had twenty odd days left, sir. Before the Druids’ deal is off.’

Plautius answered him. ‘Yes, that’s right. But once the deadline has passed and… and if the worst has happened, I’d like to be able to give them a decent funeral. Even if all that’s left is ash and bone.’

A hand grasped Cato’s shoulder and shook him roughly. His eyes flickered open and his body, stiffened at the sudden waking.

‘Shhh!’ Macro hissed from the darkness. ‘Keep it quiet! It’s time to go. Got your equipment?’

Cato nodded, then realised that it was still too dark for Macro to see him. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. Then let’s go.’

Still tired, and reluctant to quit the relative warmth of the tent, Cato shivered as he quietly crept outside, dragging the bundle he had prepared before going to sleep. Wrapped inside a spare tunic was his mail armour and leather harness, together with sword and dagger. Helmet, shield and everything else would be collected by the headquarters staff and kept safe from pilfering until they returned. Cato had little doubt that they would become someone else’s property in the near future.

As he followed Macro through the dark lines of tents towards the stables, fear of what lay ahead began to unravel his determination to see the mission through. It was tempting to make himself trip over a guy rope and fake a twisted ankle. In the darkness it might pass for a credible excuse. But he could imagine the contemptuous doubt that Macro and the legate would be sure to feel, if not express. This shaming prospect made him dismiss the plan and tread more warily in case the accident happened for real. Besides, he couldn’t let Macro go blundering about in the depths of enemy territory with only Prasutagus and Boudica for company. It would be all too easy for the Iceni warrior to slit Macro’s throat while he slept. But not so easy if they took turns to watch over each other. There really was no way out of this, he concluded glumly. If only Macro hadn’t been so rude to the general, then he wouldn’t have had to intervene. Now they were both for the chop, thanks to Macro.