‘We should stop here for a moment to rest the men and mules,’ the centurion marching beside Quintus advised. ‘It’s hard going, and they’re exhausted.’

‘If we stop now, they’ll not want to continue,’ Quintus mused. ‘Better we carry on.’

‘If we do that, sir, then we’ll risk losing men and beasts along the way. Any stragglers we leave behind won’t survive the night without shelter.’

‘That’s their lookout. I have orders to bring the baggage up to the main column as soon as I can.’

The centurion sighed in frustration and was about to speak again when Marcus heard a faint sound to his left, from the direction of the trees. It had sounded like a voice calling out. He flicked his hood back to hear more clearly, tilting his head to the side as he strained his ears.

‘Did you hear that?’ he interrupted the two officers.

‘What?’ Quintus rounded on him, the wind fluttering the crest on his helmet. ‘Hear what?’

‘Quiet!’ Marcus snapped. ‘Listen! There it is again.’

There was another shout from amid the trees, muffled and impossible to make out, but definitely a voice.

‘Could be a wild animal,’ suggested the centurion. ‘With the wind and all, it’s easy to mistake the sound.’

Marcus shook his head. ‘There’s someone out there, I’m telling you.’

Quintus chuckled. ‘Your imagination is getting the better of you, boy. You should have stayed in Caesar’s household in Rome where you belong.’

Before Marcus could respond, the sound of a horn cut through the moan of the wind. Three sharp blasts, a pause, then they came again. Along the track the men and vehicles slowed to a halt as faces turned towards the sound with anxious expressions.

‘What’s that?’ Quintus asked.

The horn sounded a third time and a cheer rose up from within the forest. Marcus stared at the shadows along the treeline, no more than two hundred paces away. As the sound of the cheers swelled, he saw movement and the first of the figures burst from cover to charge across the snowy field towards the track.

‘Ambush!’ the centurion exclaimed, then turned to his men and cupped his hand. ‘Form line to the left!’

Quintus stared at the oncoming men open-mouthed, then thrust his jaw out as he drew his sword. He caught Marcus’s eyes and nodded grimly. ‘Looks like we were right about the risk.’

‘Maybe,’ Marcus replied through gritted teeth. ‘But there’s nothing we can do about it now.’

He reached down for the handle of his sword and drew the blade from its scabbard with a sharp rasp.

‘Stay close!’ Quintus ordered. ‘If you’re half the gladiator they say you are, I want you at my side.’