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quick, Caradoc thought. She knows that we are laughing at her father. He nodded to Aricia and strode away, torn between laughter and anger at old Subidasto’s temerity. Roman disease! How little he knew Cunobelin, to imagine that the Catuvellauni were only pawns in the ironclad fingers of Rome. We are first, and only, freemen, masters of ourselves. In that is our pride.
    He plunged into the crush of excited, shouting people and they made way for him, muttering as he passed. They were mostly peasants, small and dark-haired, but there were also many native Trinovantian freemen and former chiefs, from whose stock his mother had come. Here and there a Catuvellaunian chieftain bowed to him, and by the time he had forced his way to the bank of the river he had four nobles at his back.
    Here the stench was overpowering. Blood pooled on the grass and trickled in rivulets down to the water, and great piles of carcasses waited for the tanners to come and skin them and the butchers to haul them away and dismember them. The air was clouded with flies even though the first frosts had come and gone. Alan stood next to Cinnamus, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up, his arms bloody to the elbows. Sholto was berating them both, shaking his fists and stamping on the ground while the crowd watched, waiting for the blows that must come. Caradoc stepped forward.
    “Alan, a good morning to you. And to you, Sholto. Shall I pick you up and throw you into the river? Why do you argue with my freeman?”
    Sholto glared at him. “I am your freeman too, Lord, or have you forgotten our bargain? I oath to you for a bull and a heifer, breeders, but Alan here calls me a liar!”
    Caradoc looked at him speculatively for a moment, watching the shifty eyes slide away from his. He did not like Sholto and was already regretting his offer to take the man on as his chief, but the honor-price was a sore point between himself and Tog, and Sholto had a large kin and many cattle. He was a whining, lying miser, but he could fight, and so could his freemen and his women.
    “I do not call you a liar, Sholto, but I call your ears hard of hearing. Alan is right. I promised you only a bull for your winter store, and a silver cup for your wife. But if you prefer, you may take a breeding heifer. I do not care. Or you may want to consider Togodumnus’s offer, but make haste. My cattle wait for the knife.”
    Alan smiled slowly, folding his red arms, and Sholto chewed his lip and thought furiously. Togodumnus was young but he had many freemen in his train. Too many, and they squabbled all the time. But Caradoc could keep order among his men with a word or a joke. He had a way with people and, moreover, he was honest in his dealings. Such a lord could not be manipulated or rapidly impoverished. Sholto spoke sullenly.
    “I will take the breeding heifer, Lord.”
    “A sound decision. Well, Alan, you can get on with it. Cinnamus, why are you foaming at the mouth?”
    “That brother of yours has gone too far this time!” Cinnamus came close to him and spoke in a low, forceful undertone. “Twelve of my fattest slaughter stock are among his cattle. I know them. My head freeman knows them. I am going to present a case to your father tonight, Caradoc, and I am going to be recompensed for Togodumnus’s light fingers.”
    “How can you prove your loss?”
    “All my people will take the oath for me!”
    “So will Tog’s. There has to be more.”
    “There is.” Cinnamus smiled grimly. “All my cattle were marked this spring, nicked in the ear. We shall see how Togodumnus can worm his way out of that!”
    The crowd was drifting away now, disappointed because there had been no fight, and already the tanners and butchers with their knives and hooks were moving among the piles of dead beasts. Caradoc looked to the forest bank, but Aricia, Tog, and Adminius had gone. So had Boudicca with his horse.
    “Cin, why don’t you go to Tog and tell him what you’ve told me. Then demand