‘An old slave. My father had him imported from the continent. He’d been teaching the sons of a procurator in Narbonensis. When they had grown to manhood the procurator no longer had any use for the tutor and put him on the market.’ Boudica smiled. ‘I think it came as a bit of a shock when he came to our village, after his years in a Roman household. Anyway, my father was hard on him, and he in turn was hard on me. So I learned Latin and Greek, and by the time the tutor died, I was fluent enough for my father’s purposes. And now yours.’

‘My purposes?’

‘Well, Rome’s. It seems that older and wiser heads among the Iceni elders think we must tie our future to that of Rome. So we do our best to become loyal allies and serve Rome in her wars against those tribes foolish enough to resist the legions.’

Cato did not miss the resentful edge to her words. He reached out to the small pile of wood and placed another splintered length of roof beam on the small fire. The dry timber caught at once, cracking and hissing, and the flare lit up Boudica’s features in a fiery red that made her look quite beautiful and terrifying at the same time, and Cato’s heart quickened. He had not found her attractive before, as she had been Macro’s woman, and he had been grieving for Lavinia. But now, as he gazed furtively at Boudica, he felt an unaccountable yearning for her. Almost at once he cautioned himself against such feelings. If Prasutagus suspected that he had taken a fancy to his future wife, who knew how he would react? If the unpleasant scene back in that inn at Camulodunum was anything to go by, Boudica was a woman best left alone.

‘I take it you don’t wholly approve of the policy of your tribal elders?’

‘I’ve heard how Rome is inclined to treat its allies.’ Boudica looked up from the fire with glinting eyes. ‘I think the elders are out of their depth. It’s one thing to make a treaty with a neighbouring tribe, or to grant trade rights to some Greek merchant. It’s quite another to play politics with Rome.’

‘Rome is usually grateful enough to its allies,’ Cato protested. ‘I think Claudius would like to see his empire as a family of nations.’

‘Oh really?’ Boudica smiled at his naivety. ‘So your Emperor is a kind of father figure, and I suppose you strapping legionaries are his spoiled sons. The provinces are his daughters, fertile and productive, mothers to the empire’s wealth.’

Cato blinked at the absurd metaphor, and nearly laughed.