A mile down the track, they halted, turned south-west, and quietly walked their horses through the cold wetland until they rejoined the track leading inland from the ford. As the first light of day began to filter through the darkness, Prasutagus quickened the pace, anxious not to be caught in the open once dawn had broken. At a gentle canter they followed the track until the surrounding land became more firm and the wetlands gave way to meadows, and then clumps of more substantial trees. Before long they had entered a small forest. Prasutagus followed the trail a short distance and then branched off along a twisting side path that led deep into an area where pine trees grew, evergreen and straight-trunked. As the lower branches closed in on either side, they had to dismount and lead their horses on foot. At length, the narrow path opened out into a small clearing. Cato was surprised to see a small timber hut faced with turf to one side. All around it stood bare wooden frames. Above the lintel over the hut’s door hung the skull of a stag with a spectacular set of antlers. Nothing moved.

‘I thought we were supposed to be avoiding the locals,’ Macro hissed at Boudica.

‘We are,’ she relayed the answer back. ‘This is a Druid hunting lodge. We’ll spend the day here, resting. We’ll continue along the main track at dusk.’

Once the horses had been relieved of their baggage and tethered, Prasutagus pushed aside the heavy leather flap that served as a door to the hut and they went inside. There was the usual beaten earth floor and a framework of pine branches held up the tightly packed thatch of the roof. A rich scent of pine and mustiness filled their nostrils. A small hearth stood at one end below an opening in the roof, and a line of simple wooden cots lined the rear wall. The bracken in the cots was slightly damp but serviceable.

‘Seems comfortable enough,’ said Macro. ‘But how safe are we here?’

‘We’re safe,’ Boudica replied. ‘The Druids only use the lodge in summer, and most of the Durotriges are too scared of the Druids to venture anywhere near this place.’

Macro tested one of the cots with a hand, then stretched out on the rustling bracken. ‘Ahhh! Now that’s what I call comfortable.’

‘Better get as much rest as you can. We’ve quite a way to go when it gets dark.’

‘Fair enough.’

Cato eased himself into the next cot, eyes already heavy at the prospect of slumber. A nagging anxiety over the trustworthiness of Vellocatus had robbed him of sleep the night before and his mind was dull with exhaustion. He lay back and pulled his cloak tightly about him. His aching eyes closed and his mind quickly drifted away from the harsh discomforts of the real world.