The tribune wheeled his mount and spurred it into a gallop back along the track, past the men of the first two centuries who had dropped their yokes and were hurriedly checking the straps of their armour before raising their shields to form a line facing the ambushers. Leaning forward in his saddle, Marcus glanced to his right and saw the white expanse in front of the forest was filled with figures. Thousands of them were surging through the ankle-deep blanket of snow.

Quintus reined in when he reached the wagons, shouting at the thin screen of legionaries to step aside and let him through. Some of the mule drivers had already deserted their positions and were running towards the shelter of the stockade, while others ran blindly towards the stream. The water was raging between the banks and Marcus knew that anyone attempting to cross it would be swept away. There was no escape from the trap that had been set for them. They must close up and hold their ground for as long as possible. As Quintus took up his position by the cohort’s standard, close to the wagon where Decimus and his men stood ready with their swords, Marcus edged his horse alongside the tribune. He stared at the wave of men rushing towards them, their mouths open as they let out a deafening roar of triumph. Most were well armed, kitted out with shields, helmets and weapons looted from the farms, villages and small towns that they had attacked. A far cry from the ragged appearance of Polonius, the rebel tortured by Festus.

In that instant Marcus saw it all. The clever trap Brixus had set for Caesar played on the Roman’s contempt for the rebel slaves and his desire for a quick end to the campaign. Polonius had been a plant, deliberately left behind to be captured and give the information that had lured Caesar away from his baggage train. It had cost him his life and Marcus could only marvel at the courage of a man who played such a part, sacrificing himself to give his comrades a victory over the Romans. He wondered if any man in Caesar’s army would have such courage. Then there was no more time to think: the enemy was upon them.