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people to death or slavery. These Romans have not come here for a season, but for a lifetime – perhaps many lifetimes. Nuada is right. We should fight for the gods, for only by fighting for the gods will we deserve the help of the gods. But the gods have their own battle to win, the battle against the gods who watch over the Romans. So it will be men, men with iron in their souls and blades of iron in their hands, who will defeat the red scourge.
    ‘You are all here because you know that if each of us stands alone we will be crushed into the dust the way a dung beetle is crushed beneath a wayward foot. We all have courage.’ He waved a hand to acknowledge them as warriors who, each in his own way, had proved their worth many times. ‘But courage alone will not be enough. Nuada, whom you know by reputation, has sent a messenger to the gods and the message he received in return is that only united will we prevail. My brother, who sits at my right hand, witnessed it, and he and I have put aside our grievances to meet this greater threat. Come, brother.’ He took a startled Togodumnus by the arm and raised him to his feet. ‘Give me the embrace of friendship.’
    Togodumnus’s face was frozen somewhere between a dead man’s grin and a wolf’s snarl, but he allowed himself to be taken into his brother’s arms. ‘You take unity too far, brother, and push my patience further still,’ he said through gritted teeth into Caratacus’s ear.
    ‘It is a small price to pay, brother.’ Caratacus turned back to the circle of kings, and when he spoke the power in his voice grew with every word. ‘I do not ask you to do as my brother and I have done, but I do ask you to forget your grievances; to set aside the blood feuds and the border disputes that have long sapped our strength, and combine with me in one great battle against the enemy. Together we will destroy them, and the vanquished will take the tales of our valour back to their villages and their towns and their cities, and their stories will ring down the generations and ensure no Roman returns to these shores for a thousand years.’
    Bodvoc started it. Each man in the circle had his war shield with its personal crest laid out on a frame in front of him. The Regni leader thumped a giant fist against the leather-covered ash in a rhythmic, measured drumming that was taken up by each king in turn. Caratacus saw Epedos hesitate before joining in the rhythm and taking up the chant that now rattled the wooden rafters of the hut. ‘War! War! War! War! War!’
    Caratacus waited until they were hypnotized by the steady beat of flesh upon wood, their blood was racing through their veins and the savagery of their shouts was mirrored in their eyes before he raised a hand for silence. He opened his mouth to give orders for the muster. In his mind he had already chosen the sites for the stores of food that would sustain a great army until the harvest. Knew even where he would bring the Romans to battle if the gods favoured him.
    ‘Am I to be denied my say?’ Adminius demanded.
    ‘We do not need the words of a coward and a Roman-lover.’ Togodumnus was on his feet, his face flushed with the honeyed ale he had consumed and the battle-rage Bodvoc had inspired. ‘If you want to lick this Claudius’s boots, take your little tribe and go. Leave the fighting to real warriors.’
    Adminius rose and would have walked out, but Epedos laid a hand on his arm. ‘Adminius is a king, as we are kings. He is my neighbour, and we have had our differences, but I say he should speak.’
    The last thing Caratacus wanted was to allow Adminius to speak, but Epedos was central to his plans. He put a hand on Togodumnus’s shoulder and forced him down. ‘This is a gathering of friends. You are of my blood, Adminius, but even if it were not so you would have your say, though I fear it will not be what we want to hear.’ He gave way to his half-brother with a bow.
    Adminius acknowledged the courtesy