‘I’m only being careful,’ Macro explained. ‘I expect your man will be back soon enough. You don’t have to worry about him. So sit still.’

‘Sorry, I need a shit. Can’t wait any longer. So, if you won’t let me go somewhere discreet, I’ll have to do it here.’

Macro went red with embarrassment and anger, knowing it would be foolish to accuse her of lying. In frustration he balled his hands into fists.

‘Go on then! But don’t go far and come straight back.’

‘I’ll be as long as it takes,’ she spat back and stamped off into the shadows of the forest.

‘Bloody women!’ mumbled Macro. ‘Bloody liabilities, all of ‘em. Want a word of advice, lad? Never have anything to do with them. They’re just trouble.’

‘Yes, sir. Shall I get the fire started?’

‘What? Oh, yes. Good idea.’

As Cato struck the flints in his tinder pan, Macro continued to watch for the return of Boudica and Prasutagus. A small lick of orange flame caught the dry shreds of moss in the pan and Cato carefully transferred it to the fire, taking care to shield the delicate flame from the wind with his body. The kindling caught quickly and soon he was warming his hands in front of a crackling blaze as the fire got to work on the larger pieces of wood he had fed into the flames. A faint orange glow wavered on the surrounding trees as night began to close in.

Boudica did not reappear and Cato began to wonder if anything had happened to the two Britons. Even if nothing had happened, would Boudica be able to find her way back to them in the dark? What if they had been captured by the Durotriges? Would they be tortured for information about accomplices? Were the Durotriges already looking for him and his centurion?

‘Sir?’

Macro turned his face away from the dark woods. ‘What?’

‘Do you think anything’s happened to them?’

‘How should I know?’ snapped Macro. ‘They might have gone off to negotiate a price for us with the locals as far as I know.’

It was a foolish thing to say, and Macro regretted it almost immediately. He spoke out of anxiety for Boudica, and concern for what would happen to them if Prasutagus never returned. The prospects were not hopeful for two Roman legionaries stranded in a dark forest in the middle of enemy territory.

‘He seemed trustworthy enough to me,’ Cato said anxiously. ‘Don’t you trust him, sir?’