away from him again, taking the path along the contour of the summit edge. When she had gone a few yards, she looked over her shoulder at him in a way that sent a thrill through his body and set a fire in his stomach. The last time he had seen that look had been in his hut, in the week before disaster struck. Her eyes had glittered with sensuality and her bare flesh glowed like bronze in the light of the oil lamp as she offered herself to him. He shivered and fought down the wave of desire that threatened to overwhelm him.
‘There is another way,’ she said.
‘The only other way is to make common cause with the Romans. Would you have us give up our land to the invader?’
‘Not give it up. Rule it. Together we can rule Britain from north to south and east to west. Side by side we would be strong enough to force the Romans to come to terms. Offer them an alliance with a Britain that is strong and united, but no threat to their Empire.’
He was almost tempted, but knew that the Romans would never accept her bargain. They did not make bargains, they dominated. And they could only dominate the weak, not the strong. But he dared not dismiss her suggestion immediately. Better to discover exactly what was in her mind.
‘How could we rule together? You have a husband. I have a wife.’
‘If you put away Medb, I will deal with Venutius.’ The cold way she said it, unthinking and as pitiless as a farmer slaughtering a pig, made him suddenly glad that what was, was. It made perfect sense, she was right: together they would combine the strength and power to rule Britain as a single kingdom. It was what he had dreamed of. But now the thought sickened him.
‘I am sorry, lady.’ He bowed so she could not see the message in his eyes. ‘I have made my vows to my wife, and Caratacus of the Catuvellauni does not break a vow. It seems I must fight alone.’
‘It seems so.’ Her voice betrayed no emotion. Perhaps she had known it would end this way. But then why attend the meeting in the first place? ‘I too am sorry,’ she continued. ‘I had hoped Caratacus of the Catuvellauni was above petty things, and shared my vision for a greater Britain that could take its place in counsel with the Romans. I see I was wrong, but even so there is no enmity between us. I hated you for long enough, Caratacus. I do not hate you now. When you fight, you will lose. The Romans are too strong for any army you can field. Aulus Plautius has forty thousand veterans who have never been defeated, even by the hordes of Germania. But when you have lost, know this. There will always be sanctuary for you and your family with Cartimandua of the Brigantes.’ She smiled. ‘You have my vow on it.’
They walked together back towards the stones, where Brigitha waited.
‘Will you stay and dine with us, lord?’ Cartimandua asked.
‘No, lady, I must return to my people. I have a war to fight.’
When he reached the bottom of the hill, he shouted to Ballan and the scouts to get ready to move out immediately. They had erected a cowhide tent for him, and before they dismantled it he changed from the fine clothing he had worn for the meeting into the sweat-stained shirt and trews he had ridden north in. Somehow they felt cleaner.
Within twenty minutes, they formed up and moved out. He didn’t look back, so he didn’t see the slim figure who waved her farewell; he was too busy puzzling over the matter of how she knew so much about Plautius’s strength.
‘So we won’t be fighting beside the Brigantes?’ Ballan interrupted his thoughts.
Caratacus didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
‘Good. I never trusted the bastards anyway.’
The Catuvellauni war leader smiled. How fortunate he was to have this man by his side. ‘And did you have the opportunity to see the wondrous Cartimandua and form an opinion of her?’
Ballan spat. ‘Beautiful, but dangerous,’ he said firmly. ‘Almost as dangerous as my sister.’
They grinned at each other, unaware of the disaster overtaking the British cause a day’s ride to the south.
XVII
Verica’s skin was flushed and his eyes were lit by the fever of victory. He sat by the cooking fire surrounded by a cocoon of self-satisfaction that protected him from the glares of two people making a huge effort to let him know he was unwelcome without actually saying so. Britte stirred the cooking pot and gave Rufus a significant look that said: You’re the man, why can’t you get rid of him?
When they had first halted, the mood among the baggage slaves had been almost festive. The demands upon them on the march were incessant, but with the column at a standstill and safe within the ramparts of their latest temporary marching camp there was little for them to do, save a little mending and fixing of harness, sandals or clothing. Then the centurions had marched up the column calling out every third century of the Augusta and the atmosphere changed. As the soldiers marched off, in full armour and with enough food for three days, the non- combatants watched in uneasy silence; it was clear these were men heading towards a fight. When the Fourteenth Gemina, situated behind them in the column, followed in their footsteps Rufus realized this was a major engagement.
He had hailed Narcissus as he was riding by on his way from Vespasian’s headquarters.
‘Plautius has his battle at last, it seems,’ the Greek confirmed. ‘The Britons have formed a defensive line beyond a river four miles ahead. The place has been well chosen, because the banks are thickly wooded, and it is impossible to count the enemy’s numbers. Our general is keen to get to grips with them, but he knows he cannot afford a setback, so he will wait until his patrols return before he moves. It may take a day or two.’
‘Will we win?’
Narcissus smiled. ‘Of course we will win. These are the legions and our enemies are ill-disciplined barbarians. Plautius will force the river and if the British commander is foolish enough to make a stand he will be destroyed.’
The Greek rode off and Rufus made his way back to the bullock cart trying to look more confident than he felt. He didn’t share Narcissus’s confidence. The memory of his ordeal at the hands of the Britons was still sharp, and he remembered only too well the suicidal courage of the enemy warriors who had attacked the column in the pretty valley. Nothing was certain in war. He also understood what would happen to the baggage train if the legions were defeated. They would be hunted down and slaughtered like sheep, or end up as slaves in a British village with a life worse than any dog’s. But now here was Verica roaring his triumph like a young lion fresh from its first kill and dispensing sour wine to anyone who would accept it.
‘We cut them down like sheaves of corn in summer,’ the Atrebate exulted. ‘It was a joyous thing to behold. They stood beyond the river screaming their defiance. The clash of sword upon shield rose until it was enough to deafen you; then their champions came forward into the shallows and challenged our commander to single combat. But Plautius was unmoved. Instead, he waited and watched, studied their line and counted the hours until his scouts returned with word of their numbers. At first he believed it must be a trap, for the force opposite him was only half what he had expected to find. He called me to him and asked me to point out Caratacus, if I could divine him among that great host. I did not see him in the midst of the line, though his brother, that carrion bird Togodumnus, was there at the heart of his Dobunni. Bodvoc of the Regni stood by him, and I could identify elements of the Trinovantes by their colours. If the Catuvellauni were with them they were not visible to me. When I told him this, Plautius looked thoughtful, and turned to the legates of the Twentieth and the Fourteenth. “This is naught but a blocking force sent here to waste my time,” he declared. “Take your legions forward and they will melt away in front of you. But I wish you to harry them and keep harrying them until darkness. Nothing must delay the crossing of the column.”’
Verica grinned with that inane foolishness that comes with too much wine. ‘You see how I was of service to our commander?’
‘I see a puppy barking at a new moon,’ Britte spat, but Verica pretended not to hear her. He turned to Rufus as if they were old friends who had been parted for too long.
‘Then the general turned to me and said, “Prince Verica of the Atrebates and his auxiliaries will accompany the attack and identify the enemy chieftains. If there is any opportunity to take them alive, do so, and bring them to