‘In that case, let’s get ourselves some light to see by,’ Macro insisted. ‘We need to be sure we don’t miss anything.’

He removed the nearest torch from its holder and thrust it into the embers, sending a swirling cloud of brilliant sparks flying into the air. The torch flared. Raising it in front of him, Macro strode back to the first hut and ducked inside. The flickering glare of the torch illuminated the interior in a wavering light. Several beds were to one side, covered with blankets and furs. On the other side was a shrine, against which leaned a pair of small harps. A set of wooden eating platters and earthenware cups was stacked by a tub of water.

‘No cooking fire,’ mused Cato.

‘No cooking,’ Prasutagus said. ‘Others bring food for Druid.’

‘Leeching off the common folk, eh?’ Cato shook his head. ‘Same the world over, as far as priests are concerned.’

Macro clicked his fingers. ‘When you two have finished your fascinating theological conversation, we’ve got some huts to search. Look for any signs of the general’s family.’

They went through each hut thoroughly, but aside from the sparse possessions of the Druids they found nothing that indicated that any Roman had ever been there.

‘Let’s try the big hut,’ suggested Cato. ‘I’d imagine that’s where the chief of the Druids lives.’

‘All right then,’ Macro agreed.

‘Na!’

The Romans turned to look at Prasutagus. He stood rooted outside the entrance of the last hut they had searched, a look of utter terror on his face. He shook his head imploringly.

‘I not go in!’

Macro shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. Come on, Cato.’

The entrance to the hut was as imposing as the hut itself. A huge timber frame, twice the height of a man, was topped by a carved lintel bearing impressions of dreadful, inhuman faces, savage and howling with jagged teeth. In their maws lay the half-consumed bodies of men and women, mouths gaping with terror. So compelling were the images that Macro paused at the threshold and raised his torch for a better look.

‘What the hell is this?’

‘I imagine it’s what the future holds for mankind when Cruach rises up and stakes his claim, sir.’

Macro turned to Cato, eyebrows raised. ‘You think so? Don’t think I’d want to run into this Cruach character on a dark street.’

‘No, sir.’

Just inside the entrance hung a series of heavy animal skins, totally blocking the interior from sight. Macro pushed them aside and stepped into the chief Druid’s quarters. He raised the torch up and whistled.

‘Quite a contrast!’