behind the sharpened stakes of the palisade. The sentry continued sounding the alarm a moment longer before Macro shouted to him.
‘Shut that fucking racket up!’
As the last tuneless note died away, Macro lowered his helmet and struggled into his chain-mail vest. ‘Make your report, man! What did you see?’
Before the sentry could reply, Cato drew a breath and called from the watchtower, ‘Fires to the west!’
As the last of the men lined the palisade, Ostorius struggled on to the walkway, breathing heavily. The fires, scores of them now, were well enough established to be clearly visible and there was a hush before one of the junior tribunes spoke up. ‘What is that? It looks like an army on the move.’
Ostorius coughed to clear his throat. ‘That’s Avibarius, I imagine.’
‘Aye, Roman,’ said Prasutagus, his deep voice carrying clearly. ‘It is.’ He glanced up to the watchtower and frowned as he caught sight of his wife. A moment later the structure swayed slightly as the giant Iceni warrior climbed the ladder and then squeezed on to the platform alongside Cato and Boudica. There was a terse exchange in the Iceni tongue before Prasutagus eased himself between his wife and the prefect and stared towards the distant fires.
‘The fires mark the boundary of sacred stones. As the sun dies, the fire gives light to the world. When priests give the order.’
‘Priests?’ Cato took in a sharp breath. ‘You mean Druids.’
Prasutagus nodded.
Cato unconsciously raised his hand to touch his chest where a Druid had wounded him seven years before. There was only a scar there now, but suddenly he felt a chill on the flesh beneath the cloth of his tunic. ‘What does it mean, Prasutagus?’
‘They prepare the ground for the meeting. There are rituals they must perform, and sacrifices. To appease spirits and please our gods.’
‘What kind of sacrifices?’ Cato asked quietly but Prasutagus did not reply. He strained his eyes to try and make out more detail. At length he continued in his broken Latin.
‘They send for us soon.’
‘Already?’
The Iceni king shrugged. ‘Why not? You have something else to do?’ He glanced meaningfully at his wife.
Boudica scowled. ‘We were talking about the last time we were together. The four of us, my King.’
‘That was long time ago. Long time. Much has changed. You are my wife and Queen of the Iceni.’
‘And what of friendship?’ Cato asked. ‘Has that changed?’
‘Is a man a friend if he takes and takes, until he leaves nothing?’
Cato smiled. ‘You are talking about Rome. What about Macro and me? What have we ever taken from you? Why should we not be friends, as we once were?’
Prasutagus raised his eyebrows in surprise as he answered. ‘Because you are Romans.’
‘There’s some movement over there!’ the junior tribune who had spoken earlier piped up. ‘Horseman approaching.’
‘Thank you, Tribune Decianus,’ the governor replied tersely. ‘I may be getting old, but I’m not blind.’
The outpost commander turned to him. ‘What are your orders, sir?’
‘Have your men stand to along the palisade. Let’s look smart and alert, eh? The kind of soldiers who will never be taken by surprise.’
The optio smiled. ‘Yes, sir.’
The governor turned to look up at Prasutagus. ‘It might be a good idea if you and your retinue stayed out of sight, rather than looking as if you are here under my protection.’
Prasutagus gritted his teeth and growled, ‘The Iceni need no protection.’
‘Of course not,’ Ostorius replied soothingly. ‘It’s just a question of form. Best not have any of your peers jumping to conclusions.’
Prasutagus hesitated a moment, then issued an order to his warriors and swung himself on to the ladder and began to descend from the tower. After a brief apologetic look, Boudica followed him. The tribesmen scrambled down to the base of the turf rampart and out of view of the horseman approaching the outpost. The soft thud of hoofs carried to the ears of those standing on the walkway and then the pace of the rider slowed. There was a tense silence as he made his way close enough to the outpost to address those within. Then the dim shadow stopped, fifty feet from the ditch, and a voice called out to them in a native tongue.
‘Where’s my damned interpreter?’ Ostorius demanded in a low voice. ‘Marcommius, on me, damn you. Quickly!’
The interpreter thrust his way past the tribunes to join the governor.
‘What did he say?’
‘He asks for you, sir.’
‘Ask him how he knows that I am here?’
There was a brief exchange before Marcommius relayed the words. ‘He says that we have been watched closely since we passed through Calleva, sir. Us and the Iceni contingent. The others have been waiting for us to arrive before the ceremonies began, sir. Now he asks us, and King Prasutagus, to follow him to the sacred rings.’
‘Who is he?’ Ostorius demanded. ‘What is the fellow’s name?’
Cato had a better view from the watchtower and could easily make out the dark robes and wild flowing hair of the rider. He already knew the answer even before the translator could reply to the governor.
‘He’s a Druid, sir. And he says his name is known only to his followers, as is their custom. And he, uh, requests that you bring your men and follow him now.’
‘Requests? I suspect that he put it more forcefully than that. I need you to interpret as accurately as possible. Tell me the precise words he used and let me deal with the nuances.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then tell him we will come at once.’ Ostorius turned to his officers. ‘Don’t forget what I said. No man does, or says, anything without my express order.’
‘What if anything happens to you, sir?’ asked Tribune Decianus.
‘In that event, I think you can rely on instinct.’ Ostorius smiled wryly. ‘The line of command is clear. If I fall, Prefect Cato will be the senior officer present. Look to him.’
Several of the men glanced up at Cato who was climbing down from the watchtower. Although he understood his duty well enough, the prospect of being thrust into command in what could only be a desperate situation caused him some anxiety.
The horses, used to the routine of being unsaddled at the end of the day and given their feed, whinnied and snorted in protest as their saddlecloths were replaced and then the heavy saddles and the rest of their tackle. Decimus saw to the mules, relieved that he would not have to ride out with his two masters. Night had fallen by the time the gates of the outpost opened and Ostorius led the column out to meet their Druid escort. The latter had not moved and now waited until Ostorius reined in a short distance from him. There was a pause, then the Druid clicked his tongue and walked his horse forward. Cato and Macro sat in their saddles a short distance behind the governor and his interpreter and could just make out the features of the Druid as he stared haughtily at Ostorius. Up close he appeared even more wild, and unworldly with his unkempt hair and dark robes.
‘If he thinks that staring routine is going to scare me, then he’d better think again,’ Macro said under his breath. ‘If it weren’t for orders, I’d have the bastard.’
‘Early days, Macro,’ Cato whispered. ‘If I’m any judge of the situation, you’ll get your chance.’
The Druid turned his attention from the governor and slowly rode down the column. Ostorius stared fixedly ahead, not willing to let the Druid’s scrutiny unsettle him. As the latter passed beside Macro and Cato, Macro gave a broad wink and the Druid growled what sounded like a curse back at the Roman officer. He continued, passing the tribunes who were taking a lead from their commander and striving not to look anxious. Then the Druid stopped in front of Prasutagus and his retinue. There was a long silence and the Druid sniffed the air, before his nose wrinkled with distaste and he spat on the ground in front of the Iceni King. Then he spoke.
‘What did he say?’ Ostorius asked calmly.
