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
‘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
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