‘Oh, I’m sure he is most concerned about that!’ Verica chuckled. ‘It wouldn’t be very helpful of me if I went and died. The Atrebates shed no tears when Caratacus kicked me out, and hardly welcomed my return, accompanied by Roman bodyguards, with affection. Whoever succeeds me might do well to claim allegiance with Caratacus rather than your Emperor Claudius, if he wants to win the hearts of our people.’

‘Would the Atrebates really want to risk the terrible consequences of allowing such a man to claim your throne?’

‘My throne is mine because your Emperor says so,’ came the quiet response.

Vespasian thought he detected a trace of bitterness in the old man’s tone. If Verica had been younger, it would have caused the legate some concern. But old age seemed to have bred a desire for peace and quashed the fiery ambition that had fuelled the glittering achievements of Verica’s youth. The British king sipped his wine before continuing.

‘Rome will have peace with the Atrebates as long as Centurion Albinus and his men are here to ensure that the Emperor’s word is respected. But with Caratacus at large, and freely slipping through your legions to punish those tribes whose leaders have gone over to Rome, you can understand why some of my people might challenge my loyalty to Rome.’

‘Of course I understand that, sire. But surely you can make them see that the legions will eventually crush Caratacus. There can be no other outcome. I’m certain of it.’

‘Oh really?’ Verica raised his eyebrows, and shook his head mockingly. ‘Nothing in this life is certain, Legate. Nothing. Perhaps least of all the defeat of Caratacus.’

‘He will be defeated soon enough.’

‘Then see to it, or I cannot answer for the loyalty of my people. Particularly with those bloody Druids stirring things up.’

‘Druids?’

Verica nodded. ‘There have been a number of raids on small villages and trading settlements on the coast. At first we thought it might be a small band of the Durotriges. That is, until we heard a more detailed report. It appears that these raiders were not content with a little bit of theft and slaughter. Nothing was spared. Not one man, woman or infant. Not even their livestock. Every house, every hut, no matter how mean, was put to the torch. And worse was to come.’ Verica paused to take another draught of his wine, and Vespasian noted that the hand clasping the goblet quavered. Verica drained the cup, and quickly gestured to Albinus to refill it. He nodded only when the red wine had almost reached the rim.

‘You’d better tell him, Albinus. After all, you were there. You saw it.’

‘Yes, sire.’