‘What on earth have you got there, Manlius?’

‘Found ‘em heading for the hill fort, sir. Young lad there reckons he’s Roman.’

‘Oh, does he?’ The duty centurion smiled.

‘Speaks good Latin anyway, sir.’

‘Make a valuable slave then.’ The centurion grinned.

Cato saluted. ‘Optio Quintus Licinius Cato reporting, sir. Returning from a mission for the legate.’

The centurion looked closely at Cato, then clicked his fingers as he made the connection. ‘You serve under that nutcase, Macro, don’t you?’

‘Macro is my centurion, yes, sir.’

‘Poor bastard.’

Cato felt a chill course through him, but before he could ask after Macro, the duty centurion ordered the decurion to report directly to headquarters and waved the patrol through. They trotted up the wide avenue between rows of tent markers set out for the legionaries to erect their goatskin tents the moment the camp’s ditch and rampart were complete. In the middle of the site the legate’s headquarters tent was already standing, and several horses belonging to the staff officers were tethered to a makeshift rail. The decurion halted his patrol and dismounted, signalling Cato and the others to follow suit.

‘This lot want to see the legate,’ he announced to the commander of Vespasian’s bodyguard. ‘Duty centurion passed ‘em through.’

‘Wait here.’

Moments later an exhausted Cato, Boudica and Prasutagus were ushered inside by Vespasian’s private secretary. At first Cato blinked. It was quite hard adjusting from the hardships of the last days to the luxury of the accommodation afforded the commander of the Second Legion. Floorboard sections had been laid down, and on them, in the centre of the tent, was Vespasian’s large campaign table, surrounded by padded stools. A small brazier glowed in each corner, warming the interior of the tent nicely. On a low table to one side lay a platter of cold meats and a glass jug half filled with wine. Behind his desk Vespasian finished signing a form and handed it back to a clerk with a quick dismissal. Then he looked up, smiled a greeting and waved his hand towards the stools on the other side of the table.

‘I would change my appearance as soon as possible, if I were you, Optio. Don’t want some fool of a recruit mistaking you for a local and poking you with his spear.’

‘No, sir.’

‘I expect you could do with a good meal and some other home comforts.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Cato gestured to Prasutagus and Boudica. ‘ We could.’

‘As soon as I’ve debriefed you,’ Vespasian replied curtly. ‘Boudica gave me some details a few days ago. I assume she told you what’s been going on in the wider world. What has changed at your end?’

‘The Druids have still got the general’s wife and son up in the hill fort, sir. I saw them last night.’

‘Last night? How?’