Bodies littered the ground, mounds of trampled meat. The rebels were all warriors, stalwarts of Eremon and Rath, not pitchfork-wielding farmers. They attacked with a controlled fury, knowing this was their last, and also their best, chance of defeating Rhin’s notorious ally. Veradis looked around wildly, trying to find men to regroup the shield wall, but they were fractured, embroiled in scores of solitary battles.

‘So be it,’ Veradis growled. They’ll see there’s more to us than just the shield wall. He blocked an overhand swing that was about to take a stumbling comrade’s head off, twisted and back-swung, opening his attacker’s throat. He reached down, pulled his sword-brother to his feet and moved on. Smashed his shield into an enemy’s side, stabbed hard, his sword-tip breaking through a shirt of mail to slide across ribs. His opponent cried out, pulled away, was hacked down by another eagle-guard. A spear was thrust towards him; Veradis deflected it with his shield, the spear-tip bursting through layers of ox-hide and beech, punching through a handspan above his wrist. He dropped his shield, wrenching the spear from his opponent’s hands, and hacked his blade down into the man’s skull. Veradis switched his short sword to his left hand, drew his longsword and fought on.

A horn blew to his left, two short blasts, one long. He grinned fiercely. It was one of their signals: regroup. The eagle-guard that had left the shield wall before the auroch stampede appeared from a side street nearby, a dozen men in formation, their shields locked. He started cutting his way towards them.

Others did the same, merging into the wall, swelling it, and before Veradis reached them it had grown, six men wide, four rows deep. The resistance started to fall before it.

Other sounds emerged over the din of battle – the thunder of hooves and the blowing of horns, growing rapidly louder.

Geraint and his warband. They must have heard us. Thank Elyon. He saw Geraint riding a black warhorse at the head of a host of mounted warriors. He skewered a rebel with his spear, let it go, drew his sword and started cutting down rebels as if they were stalks of wheat. It was a matter of heartbeats before the rebels were broken, fleeing in all directions. No one can stand with a shield wall before them, cavalry behind. Veradis stood there, panting, both swords bloody.

‘Well met,’ he said to Geraint as Rhin’s battlechief pulled his horse up beside him. The warrior leaned over and gripped Veradis’ forearm.

‘Think you might just have saved my life,’ Veradis said to him.

‘Good.’ Geraint grinned. ‘I’ve been meaning to return that favour.’