They followed a bend in the trail and began to pass the spiky tangle of a blackberry thicket. Without warning a great cracking and thrashing sounded from within. Cato and Macro flipped back their capes and drew their swords. The horses and ponies, nostrils flaring and eyes wide with fright, reared and retreated from the brambles. The thicket shook and bulged, and a stag burst out onto the track. Bloodied from numerous scratches and snorting its steamy breath into the clammy air, the stag dipped its antlers at the nearest horse and shook them threateningly.

‘Keep clear!’ shouted Macro, eyes on the sharp white ends of the antlers. ‘Get out of its way!’

In the commotion of wheeling horses and ponies, the stag saw a gap and bounded through it. As the riders strove to control their mounts, the stag pounded into the depths of the forest on the opposite side of the track, kicking up great divots of fallen leaves.

Prasutagus mastered his horse first, then looked round at the Romans and burst into laughter. Macro scowled at him, then noticed he was still holding his short sword, poised and ready to thrust. In a sudden release of tension, he returned the Iceni warrior’s laugh and sheathed his sword. Cato followed suit.

Prasutagus muttered something then tugged on his reins and headed down the track again.

‘What’d he say?’ Macro asked Boudica.

‘He’s not sure who jumped highest, you or the stag.’

‘Very funny. Tell him he didn’t do so bad himself.’

‘Better not,’ cautioned Boudica. ‘He’s a bit prickly on the pride front.’

‘Is he? Then we’ve got something in common after all. Now tell him what I said.’ Macro’s gaze did not waver as he challenged Boudica to defy his will. ‘Well, go on then, tell him what I said.’

Prasutagus looked back over his shoulder. ‘Come! We go!’ he shouted, and then continued in his own tongue, having exhausted his knowledge of Latin.

‘Sir,’ Cato intervened quietly. ‘Please don’t push the matter. He’s the only one who knows the way ahead. Just humour him.’

‘Humour him!’ Macro snorted. ‘Bastard’s begging for a fight.’

‘Which we can’t afford to have,’ said Boudica. ‘Cato’s right. We mustn’t let petty rivalries brew up if we’re to rescue your general’s family. Calm down.’

Macro clamped his lips together and glared at her. Boudica just shrugged and turned her horse to follow Prasutagus. Knowing only too well how quickly Macro’s temper came and went, Cato kept his silence and stared vaguely to one side, until with a muttered oath Macro kicked his horse forward and the small company continued on its way.