‘Shit . . .’ Cato hissed, reining and turning his horse towards the warrior, who regained his feet and sprinted on towards the enclosure, screaming orders to the young man at the gate. Cato urged his mount into a steady canter, converging with the warrior, but it was too late to pick him off before he reached the gate and there he turned. His chest heaved from his exertions as he thrust the point of the standard towards Cato. The chase was over and Cato stopped his horse a short distance from the two men. He could see that the young man with the pitchfork was afraid. His eyes were wide and the points of his makeshift weapon were trembling. Cato edged his horse closer and pointed his sword at the youth and flicked the blade to the side.

‘Go! Get out of here!’

Even though the words were not in his tongue, the meaning was clear enough and the Silurian began to shuffle to the side until a sharp word of command from his comrade stopped him. Cato heard the sound of hoofs behind him and glanced back up the slope to see the two Thracians riding down towards him. The sight lifted his spirits. There was no way the standard would be lost now. Then they slewed to a halt a hundred feet away.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Cato called out to them. ‘On me! Now!’

They did not react, and their mounts stood in the long grass, tails swishing, as the two men watched silently.

Cato felt rage burn in his veins. So much for the vaunted reputation of the Blood Crows, he thought bitterly. He was about to shout at them again when the Silurian with the standard let out a roar and charged towards him. There was little time to react and Cato turned to present his shield, his sword held overhead. The warrior’s eyes were wide and his lips were bared as he braced his shoulders and threw all his weight behind the thrust. The point struck the shield low, splintering the wood. The tip punched through the laminated strips and burst out the other side and struck the horse just in front of Cato’s knee. The horse lurched to one side as Cato swung his sword at the warrior’s head. The Silurian ducked, and wrenching the standard free he backed off and readied himself, then shouted at his comrade. The young man hesitantly moved forward, edging round to flank Cato.