'Sir?'
'I said we're going for a drink tonight.'
'We are?'
'Yes. We are.'
Cato nodded vaguely, and his centurion could see that he would have to offer rather more of an incentive. Well then, there was something he could try. Not that it pleased him to take the risk of introducing the optio to his latest piece of romantic interest.
'There's this girl I'd like you to meet. Came across her in the marketplace the other day. She'll be coming along with us tonight. She's good for a laugh, and I think you'll get on with her well enough.'
'That's kind of you, sir. But I wouldn't want to get in the way.'
'Nonsense! Come along and get a skinful. Trust me, you could do with it.'
For a moment Cato considered refusing. He did not yet feel he could enjoy life again – he was too emotionally scarred for that. Then he looked into the eyes of his centurion. He saw the genuine concern for his well-being expressed there, and found that he was moved to push aside his self-indulgent grief. Very well then. For Macro he would get horribly drunk tonight. Drunk enough to forget everything.
'Thank you, sir. I'd appreciate a drink.'
'Good lad!' Macro slapped him on the back. 'So tell me, sir, who's this woman of yours?'
Historical Note
The most significant account of the Claudian Invasion that has passed down to us from the days of the Empire is a scant eight hundred words penned by Cassius Dio. Writing over a hundred years after the event Dio was reliant on other sources. How accurate or detailed these sources might have been is anyone's guess and it is infuriating that the section of Tacitus' Annals relating to the invasion is missing. However, the historian's loss is the novelist's gain. Being as true as I can to Dio's account, and taking on board as much of the archaeological evidence as possible, I have fashioned my tales of Cato, Macro and Vespasian. That said, it would be nice one day to read of the discovery of a few elephant bones in the depths of Essex…
Despite the paucity of Dio' s account it is clear that the success of the invasion was anything but a foregone conclusion. The assault across the Mead Way (Medway) was unusual in that the battle lasted two days, a testament to the ferocity with which the Britons resisted the advance of the eagles. The reasons for the later halt on the far side of the Tamesis (Thames) is a matter of dispute amongst historians. Some argue that the Britons were a spent force after their failure to defend the river crossings and that the halt had been pre-arranged to allow Claudius to lead the assault on Camulodunum in person. Others have argued that Plautius' troops genuinely needed reinforcing after being roughly handled by the natives. In view of the Emperor's precarious political situation I tend towards the former interpretation.
I have tried to keep the tribal politics of the Britons uncomplicated so as not to slow down the flow of the story. At the time of the Roman invasion of 43 AD the island was riven by shifting alliances, and most tribes regarded the sweeping gains of the Catuvellauni with growing apprehension. Having snapped up the Trinovantes and made the wealthy town of Camulodunum their capital, the Catuvellauni were making great inroads south of the Thames. When the Romans landed, the Catuvellauni had a hard time recruiting their erstwhile tribal foes to the forces resisting Rome.