Most of the men sitting round the table had been quick to see the futility of resisting the advance of the iron might of the legions. They had turned out to welcome Verica when four cohorts of legionaries escorted the former king through the gates of Calleva, up its winding streets, and into the royal enclosure. Only a year before they had been denouncing Verica as the weak and cowardly puppet of Rome. Now they had swallowed their pride and principles and were puppets themselves. And they knew it.

Verica leaned back in his chair and continued, 'Those men we call traitors are acting out of personal conviction. They have an ideal – something, I might add, that is in short supply around this table tonight…'Verica dared any of them to look him in the eye and deny it. Artax alone met the challenging glint in his king's eyes. Verica nodded his approval and continued. 'Such men believe in a bond that unites the Celts across tribal boundaries. They believe in a greater loyalty than mere blind obedience to their king.'

Cadminius shook his head. 'What greater loyalty could there be than that?'

'Loyalty to one's race, to one's culture, to the bloodline from which we spring. Isn't that a loyalty worth fighting for? Worth dying for?' Verica concluded quietly. 'Well…?'

There was a power to the old king's rhetoric that touched the souls of some of the men round the table. A few were even bold enough to nod their agreement. But Tincommius was staring at his uncle with a calculating expression.

'What are you suggesting then, sire?'

'What do you think I am suggesting? If indeed I am suggesting anything at all. I merely wished to try to explain to you why some of our tribe should choose to turn their backs on us, abandon their families and go and fight for Caratacus. We must try to understand what drives them to this if we are to resist such forces acting on the minds of others.'

'Must we also reconsider our alliance with Rome?' Tincommius asked quietly.

There was a stunned intake of breath as the other nobles wondered at the brash candour of Tincommius' question. King Verica stared at him, and slowly a smile formed on his lips.

'Why?' Verica asked his kinsman. 'Why would I want to reconsider?'

'I'm not saying you would want to, I'm merely suggesting that we need to consider all the choices before us. That's all…' Tincommius' voice tailed off as he became aware that all the other men were watching him closely.

'For the sake of argument,' Verica spoke in an even tone, 'what choices do we think we have? I'd appreciate it if everyone here spoke his mind. We must have a thorough airing of all the possible positions, even if we decide against them at the end of the evening. So, Tincommius, what choices are there, in your… humble opinion?'

The young man knew he had been set up, and tried not to sound resentful when he spoke after a short pause to arrange his thoughts.

'Sire, it's obvious that the fundamental choice is between Caratacus and Rome. Neutrality is impossible.'

'Why?'

'Caratacus might respect our neutrality, because it would cost him nothing and it could only serve to frustrate Roman operations. Rome would never countenance our neutrality, since our lands sit astride the main lines of supply for the legions. So we must choose a side, sire.'

Verica nodded. 'And so we have. The question is, my lords, have we chosen the right side? Will Rome win this war?'

The nobles reflected a moment, then Mendacus leaned forward on his elbows and cleared his throat. 'Sire, you know that I've seen the legions fight. I was there at the Mead Way last summer, when they crushed Caratacus. No one can beat them.'

Verica smiled. Mendacus had been there, all right – fighting alongside Caratacus, as had some of the others in this room. Verica had been there as well, albeit on the other side of the river, with Tincommius. But that was all in the past. After his restoration, Verica, under orders from Narcissus, had exercised clemency and welcomed the rebel nobles back into his court. He had questioned the wisdom of this, but Narcissus had been adamant. The imperial secretary intended to set a wider example of Roman magnanimity. So Verica had returned their lands to the nobles and pardoned them. He glanced round the table, then back to Mendacus.

'Unbeatable, you say?'

'No one is unbeatable!' Artax snorted his contempt. 'Not even your Romans.'

' "Your Romans"?' Mendacus repeated, and raised an eyebrow. 'After your recent service under our two Roman centurions I'd have thought you'd have a greater sense of belonging?'

'What are you saying, old man? What are you accusing me of? I serve King Verica and no other man. I dare you to say different.'

'I merely wondered how successful your training had been?' Mendacus continued smoothly. 'How far you had been… Romanised.'

Artax smashed his fist down on the table, sending some the goblets flying. 'Outside! Outside now, you old bastard! You and me! We'll soon settle this.'

'Peace! Gentlemen, please… please,' Verica intervened wearily. The divisions between the Atrebatan nobles had been hopelessly complicated by the events of the last few years and now there was just too much political dirt that could be flung back and forth. Clarity of understanding and purpose were needed now more than ever. Verica glared at Artax until the latter subsided, and slumped back on to his bench with a sullen expression. Only then did Verica continue.

'The whole point of this meeting is to find a way that our people can be left in peace, or as much peace as is possible. Now, I know there are differences of opinion amongst us. Put them aside. Clear your minds of past injustices and grievances. Focus on the present situation. If I can summarise…

'For now we serve Rome, and Rome appears to be winning the fight. But, as Artax has pointed out, this does not mean that Rome must win in the end. They've been defeated in the past, and doubtless they'll be defeated again. If Caratacus can beat them, then what will be the consequences for us? I doubt we could expect much mercy from the Catuvellaunians. If the Romans look like being defeated, or are forced to retreat, we could abandon our alliance with them and join Caratacus. We would be perfectly positioned to deal the Romans a lethal blow from the rear. That would serve us well in the subsequent division of spoils amongst the tribes. Of course, there is the chance that we switch sides and then the Romans still win the war. In that case our nation would be finished. Rome would show us no pity, I am certain of that.' Verica lowered his voice to emphasise his final words. 'Everyone here would be hunted down and executed. All our families would have their land seized and they would be enslaved. Think on that… Now, what should we do?'

'You gave your word to Rome,' said Artax. 'You swore a treaty with them. Surely that's what matters, sire?'

Tincommius shook his head. 'No. What matters is the result of the struggle between Rome and Caratacus. That's all that matters.'

'Wise words, my boy,' Verica nodded. 'So then, who will win?'

'Rome,' said Mendacus. 'I'd stake my life on it.'

'You already have,' Tincommius smiled. 'But I'd say the odds are slowly shifting.'

'Oh, would you?' Mendacus folded his arms, and smiled back. 'On what basis do you offer such a view? From what vast experience of military matters? Pray tell. I'm sure we're all ears.'

Tincommius refused to rise to the bait. 'We don't have to look very far for the evidence. Why would Rome be prepared to train and arm our two cohorts if they weren't desperate for manpower? They're overstretched. Their supply lines are more vulnerable than ever and Caratacus can send raiding columns far behind the Roman legions, almost with impunity.'

'I thought you'd beaten one of them a few days ago?'