as he looked into Tuccianus' somber face. A good enough man, thought the headman, but, by the Gods, doesn't the man have any sense of humour at all?

Rhys had known Tuccianus for the better part of five years, ever since the sober-visaged Roman had been elected head of the Municipal Council. They had worked together well, for all that they were continually in opposite corners, one working to advance the Roman causes, the other to promote the welfare of the native Catuvellauni.

Rhys put on his grimmest face, smiles and niceties set aside. "It's going to take a lot, man, as you should well know." He snorted with mock derision. "How in the name of all the Gods could you people have failed to run down this Targ?"

He paused to let his genuine indignation have its effect on the Roman leader. "And to have the Queen herself attacked!" the Headman banged his fist on the table, "Duality, man, the Queen's as Roman as you, and a favourite of Domitian!"

Tuccianus reached across the table tore off a chunk of bread, using the simple expedient of food to delay his reply. Sitting back in his chair, he took a large bite of the bread and looked thoughtfully at Rhys.

"I say again, Rhys, what kind of reparation are we going to have to make to mollify the Queen?" His tone was noncommittal, but the burly Catuvellauni thought he detected a note of uncertainty in the Roman's voice.

The ex-soldier turned his eyes to the fire and stared at the flames licking the seasoned wood. He remained that way for a long while, until, sensing Tuccianus' unease with such a long lull in the conversation, he looked away from the blaze and into his companion's face.

"What will it take?" he asked softly. "The price will be steep my friend." He toyed with his mug of cider, then drained the last of it in a long, thirsty pull, putting it down with a resounding thunk to emphasize the seriousness of the matter between them.

"Five seats on the Council, for Catuvellauni chosen by us." He held up his hand, staying the protest he saw forming on Tuccianus' face. "Don't tell me there aren't five seats. Two men have sold their holdings and are returning to Rome this year, and there are three vacancies you've not announced."

There was resignation on Tuccianus' face. He had dealt with Rhys long enough to know when the Headman was running a bluff, and this wasn't one of those times. Tuccianus had no personal objections to more Catuvellauni on the Council. The few that were members had been surprisingly easy to deal with, and it was their wealth that was important, after all.

"Done, Rhys," he said, grudgingly accepting the terms, more for show than anything else. It could have been far worse, he knew.

Rhys's smile was amused as he sat back and enjoyed the quick capitulation by the Council leader. Putting his fingertips together, he glanced up from under thick brows. "That's only the first course, Tuccianus," he admonished, turning serious once more.

The Roman's eyebrows raised. "More?" He stared hard at the Catuvellauni. "What else?"

Deadly serious now, Rhys leaned forward across the table, fixing Tuccianus with a cold look. "The Catuvellauni want... " He paused, and began again. "Queen Miranda wishes to directly control the City Guard and Verulamium's defenses."

Watching the consternation on Tuccianus' face with something akin to pleasure, the Headman continued. "The Queen also desires to reserve to herself the sole power to appoint or dismiss the Commander of the City Guard."

Tuccianus sat back in his chair, mind whirling. By the Gods, he thought, how did we ever let ourselves get into this predicament?