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Chapters (49)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. About the Book
  4. About the Author
  5. Also By
  6. Praise
  7. Dedication
  8. The Roman Army Chain of Command
  9. A Brief Introduction to the Roman Army
  10. Map – Britannia 51AD
  11. CHAPTER ONE
  12. CHAPTER TWO
  13. CHAPTER THREE
  14. CHAPTER FOUR
  15. CHAPTER FIVE
  16. CHAPTER SIX
  17. CHAPTER SEVEN
  18. CHAPTER EIGHT
  19. CHAPTER NINE
  20. CHAPTER TEN
  21. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  22. CHAPTER TWELVE
  23. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  24. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  25. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  26. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  27. THE FORT AT BRUCCIUM
  28. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  29. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  30. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  38. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  39. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  40. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  48. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  49. Author’s Note

Cato slumped down on to his elbow, breathing heavily, keeping the crimson-stained sword pointing towards the other man. It was clear that he no longer presented a threat. Cato tried to look round to see how the fight was going but the length of the grass and the trembling body of the horse obscured his view. The ring of blades, the crack of weapons on shields, and the softer thud on flesh and bone, punctuated by cries of agony, anger and triumph, sounded on all sides. There was a sharp pain in Cato’s right leg. He looked down and saw that it was pinned under the heavy leather mass of the saddle. He tried to pull it free but the pain instantly became unbearable and he eased back on to his elbow with a bitter curse of frustration. The warrior’s head rolled to the side and he grinned at Cato’s discomfort, until a gush of blood spilled from his lips and he spluttered and coughed, spraying flecks of blood across the side of Cato’s face. He struggled pitifully as the blood filled his lungs, drowning him.

‘Fuck,’ Cato muttered fiercely to himself. ‘I am not going to die here.’

He tried to free himself again, bracing his left boot against the horse’s rump as he strained his muscles to try and free his trapped leg. But it was hopeless, the weight of the dying animal bore down on the saddle and made the task impossible. At length Cato slumped back on to his elbows. ‘Shit . . . shit . . . shit . . .’

There was nothing he could do, and he held his sword ready and waited for someone to come for him, friend or foe.

Macro slashed his blade down, grimacing as the edge bit deeply into his opponent’s skull with a sound like the cracking of a large egg. The tribesman’s body convulsed and his sword dropped from his nerveless fingers. A moment later the man collapsed beside his weapon, eyelids fluttering wildly as blood and brains spattered out of his shattered head. Straightening up in his saddle, Macro swept his gaze over the men fighting around him. None of the enemy was near enough to present a direct threat and Macro hurriedly assessed the situation.