‘Your future?’ Macro was scornful. ‘You mean marriage to Prasutagus? I must admit, that came as a bloody big surprise. Why did you agree to it? I mean, he’s not exactly the sharpest arrow in the quiver.’

‘No. He’s not. But he is well-positioned for the future. An Iceni prince with a household in Camulodunum and a growing reputation in the tribe. Now he’s developing a useful relationship with your general. With this mission he will win Plautius’s gratitude.’

‘I wouldn’t put too much faith in that,’ muttered Macro. He had experience of just how short-lived the general’s gratitude could be.

Boudica gave him a curious glance. When he did not elaborate, she continued, ‘If we manage to find the general’s family, Prasutagus will have more influence with Rome than almost any other Briton. And if Rome does eventually conquer this island, those people who helped her do so are bound to be rewarded.’

‘Those people, and the wives of those people.’

‘Yes.’

‘I see. Well, you’ve come a long way over the last month. I hardly recognise you.’

Boudica was injured by his cynical tone and looked away. Macro did not regret his remark, but at the same time he could not make himself dislike Boudica enough to enjoy insulting her. He wished he could find some hint of the brassy, affectionate girl he had fallen for back in Camulodunum. ‘Are you really so cold-blooded?’

‘Cold-blooded?’ The idea seemed to surprise her. ‘No. I’m not cold-blooded. I’m just making the most of what has been forced on me. If I was a man, if I had power, then things would be very different. But I’m a woman, the weaker sex, and I have to do what I’m told. That’s the only choice I have, for now’

There was a pause before Macro summoned the courage to speak. ‘No, you had another choice. You could have chosen me.’

Boudica turned and looked at him closely. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

‘Very.’ Macro’s heart soared as he saw Boudica smile. Then her eyes fell away and she shook her head.

‘No. It’s out of the question.’

‘Why?’

‘It would be no life for me. I’d be an outcast from my tribe. What if you tired of me after a while? I’d have nothing left. I know what becomes of such women, pathetic hags who follow the army and live off the legion’s scraps, until disease or some violent drunk does for them. Would you wish that on me?’

‘Of course not! It wouldn’t be like that. I would provide for you.’