The legionaries thrust their blades up and let out a cheer. Up on the wall on either side, the men who were not engaged with the enemy glanced round at the noise and Macro’s heart was warmed as he saw the men from the Blood Crows join in, echoing the cry from one end of the wall to the other. He lowered his sword and pointed the tip towards the passage. There was a sharp crack from the darkness as the ram shattered one of the timbers of the outer gate.

‘At the slow step . . . advance!’

The legionaries paced towards the opening, shields raised to the front, covering all but the eyes of the men. As they entered the passage, the ram struck home again, smashing through the ruined timber and dislodging another length. As the ram was drawn back, Macro could make out the dim shapes of men through the jagged gap. He could also see that the locking beam was still intact. He halted his men, two paces back from the gate, far enough inside the passage so that the enemy would not see them in the darkness.

The ram struck again, accompanied by a raucous cheer from the Silurians as they sensed that it would break through in a matter of moments. Another length of timber gave way with a splintering crunch. The next blow struck the locking bar full on and it leaped in the iron brackets that held it against the inside of the gates. It fell back into place, only to creak and begin to split at the next blow. Two more strikes were enough to complete the job; the bar shattered and one side of the gate burst in, revealing the packed ranks of the enemy warriors waiting to charge into the fort. As Macro braced his boots and snatched a deep breath he saw two javelins plunge down. A warrior jerked upright with a howl of agony as he groped for the shaft that had pierced his back and plunged into his vital organs. Then he toppled off the causeway into the ditch.

‘For Rome!’ Macro bellowed, his cry instantly echoing back to him off the interior of the gatehouse passage. ‘Advance!’