Early the next morning Cato and Prasutagus crept to the edge of the forest, crawling through the cold wet grass at its fringe. The trees sprawled over a gently sloping hill, and, looking down towards the track in the vale, they saw no signs of any of the Druids who had pursued them into the darkness. On the far side of the track the land sloped up to another forested hill. Beyond that, Cato knew, lay the site of the abortive rescue attempt on the wagon. A wave of anguish rushed over him at the recollection, but he swiftly pushed the thought aside and concentrated on his memory of the landscape. From the farther hill they should have a good view of the massive ramparts of the Great Fortress. Cato motioned to Prasutagus and indicated a shallow defile in the side of the hill, overgrown with gorse bushes and occasional patches of blackberry. It would provide good cover all the way down the slope. From there they would have to chance a quick dash across to the forest on the far side of the track. Although the sky was clear, it was still early spring and the sun gave little warmth at this time of day. The exertion of creeping through the thorny bushes, and the anxiety of being discovered, kept Cato from shivering, but as soon as they stopped at the foot of the hill, his body trembled with cold. Worried that Prasutagus might construe his shaking as fear, Cato fought to control his body’s instincts and just managed to still his limbs. Keeping his head low, he scanned the surrounding landscape. Aside from a light breeze rippling the grass, no living thing moved. Beside him Prasutagus drummed his fingers impatiently on the ground and inclined his head towards the trees beyond the track.

Cato nodded his assent, and both of them bolted across the open ground, over the track and into the welcome shadows of the trees. They ducked down and Cato listened for any sign that they had been spotted but the pounding of blood in his ears drowned out anything he might have heard. He dragged Prasutagus further into the trees, through a dense tangle of undergrowth. The ground sloped upwards until it eventually levelled out on the crest. Both men slumped down on a fallen tree trunk, covered with the moss and lichen of ages. Breathing heavily, Cato suddenly felt very dizzy and braced himself with both hands to stop himself tumbling to the ground. Prasutagus reached over to Cato’s shoulder to steady him.

‘You rest, Roman.’

‘No. I’m not tired,’ Cato lied. He was exhausted, but more pressing than that was his hunger. He had not eaten properly for days, and the effects were becoming apparent.

‘Food. We must have food,’ he said.

Prasutagus nodded. ‘You stay here. I find.’

‘All right. But be careful. No one must see you. Understand?’

‘Sa!’ Prasutagus frowned at the unnecessary warning.