After about a mile the trees abruptly began to thin out and he was suddenly in the open, on the edge of an expanse of uneven ground. A large stone enclosure stood at the bottom of the slope where the trees began again, a few hundred paces away, and Marcus guessed that must be a summer pasture for goats or sheep. If he continued down the slope, his dark cloak would stand out against the snow and he would be spotted the instant the rebels emerged from the forest. With a rising sense of panic, he turned back to re-enter the trees when a voice called out close at hand.

‘Over here! Some tracks ... He’s been this way!’

A cold wave of terror raced down his spine. There was only one direction now and Marcus spun round and ran for his life. He had covered no more than thirty paces across the smooth sweep of snowy field when the first of the pursuers burst out of the forest.

‘There he is! Just a kid!’

‘Get him!’ another voice called. ‘He mustn’t get away!’

Marcus risked a quick glance over his shoulder and saw several dark figures converging on him from the treeline, kicking up sprays of snow as they raced down the slope. He sprinted on, heart pounding, fear causing his stomach and chest to tighten so that he panted raggedly. When he looked back again they were much closer, their longer stride gaining on him. They were halfway across the field before Marcus realized he could not reach the shelter of the trees before they caught up. He felt the energy draining from his legs and there was nothing he could do.

In front of him lay the stone wall of the pen and he saw the sudden movement of a dark shape rising above it. Then another, and another.

‘Heads up, lads! We’ve got company.’

Marcus slowed momentarily, unsure if these were more of Brixus’s men. Then the shouts behind caused him to grit his teeth and run on.

‘Kill him!’ a voice cried out. ‘He mustn’t give us away! Kill him!’

Something dark flew close by Marcus’s head and exploded into the snow. He saw the shaft of a spear as he ran by and any moment expected to feel the piercing blow as the next missile punched through his back and tore through his body. A short distance ahead, one of the men inside the stone wall reared up and drew his arm back.

‘Get down, lad!’ he shouted hoarsely. ‘Down!’

With no time to think, Marcus hurled himself forward into the biting cold of the snow, rolling over towards the wall. He did not see what happened next, only heard the thud and deep grunt from close behind him. Scrambling on hands and knees, he glanced back and saw one of the rebels collapse to the ground, a spear shaft protruding from his stomach.