Prasutagus whipped out a dagger from beneath his cloak and spun round, ready to pounce on any foe sneaking up behind him. He weighed up Macro’s stocky physique as the centurion rose to his feet, and then the Iceni warrior roared with laughter.

‘What you laughing at?’ Macro snarled.

Nessa squeezed Cato’s arm and gasped. ‘Your friend’s a fool!’

‘No,’ Cato whispered. ‘It’s your kinsman who’s in danger. He’s had a skinful and he’s pissed Macro off. He’d better watch it.’

Prasutagus patted the centurion heavily on the shoulder and said something conciliatory in his native tongue. The knife disappeared back into his cloak.

‘Hands off!’ growled Macro. ‘You may be a big bastard, but I’ve taken down harder men than you.’

The warrior ignored him and turned towards the other customers, resuming his search for his wayward female relatives. Nessa had risen to her feet to better view the confrontation and was too slow ducking down out of sight again.

‘Ahhh!’ roared the giant and he ploughed forward, roughly pushing aside anyone in his path. ‘Nessa!’

Before he could consider the wisdom of his action, Cato moved to place himself between them, hand raised to stop the approaching warrior.

‘Leave her alone!’ His voice quavered as the stupidity of his action sank in.

Prasutagus swatted him to one side, grabbed Nessa by the shoulders and, true to her description of the man, began to bellow at her. Cato picked himself up from the floor and threw himself at the Briton. Prasutagus barely shifted. A moment later a heavy hand slapped the side of Cato’s head and his world flashed white before he dropped like a stone, out cold.

By the door, Macro roused himself. ‘That was way out of order, sunshine!’ He thrust his way through the crowd towards the fireplace. Behind him, Boudica struggled out from under the bench.

‘Macro! Stop! He’ll kill you.’

‘Let the bastard try.’

‘Stop! I beg you!’ She flew after him, making a grab for his shoulders.

‘Let go of me, woman!’

‘Macro, please!’

Prasutagus became aware of the commotion behind him and paused in his rough handling of Nessa to spare a glance over his shoulder. At once, he thrust Nessa to one side and swivelled his great frame round, bellowing out a torrent of words in a mixture of relief and rage. Macro stopped a little short of the giant, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon to even up the odds. He seized a crutch lying on the ground beside an unconscious tribesman and held it like a cross-staff. But before he could make a move on Prasutagus, a crashing blow to the back of his head laid him out — Boudica had felled him with a pottery jug. Stunned and dizzy, Macro struggled to his hands and knees.

‘Stay down!’ hissed Boudica. ‘Stay down and keep quiet if you know what’s good for you.’