The enemy line was no more than a quarter of a mile distant and Cato quickly estimated their number at five hundred. He lifted his spear and pointed to the right of the line, towards the ledge on the side of the mountain overlooking the pass. ‘Wheel right!’

He struck out in the new direction and his men turned their mounts to follow him. The enemy, fearing an attempt to outflank their line, were thrown into confusion before their leaders pushed and cajoled them into forming a crude ellipse, bristling with spears and other weapons. The Roman cavalrymen continued along their line of advance and passed close enough to the Silurian warriors to clearly hear their war cries and insults. A number of the Thracians returned the shouts in kind until Centurion Stellanus rounded on them furiously.

‘Keep your bloody mouths shut or I’ll have you on a charge the moment we get back to the fort!’

They trotted on and reached the rising ground below the ledge. To their left was the track leading up the valley, passing through a thin belt of fir trees before it climbed to the saddle between the two mountains. Cato could see parties of enemy warriors picking their way up either side of the track to take up position to attack the reinforcement column. Ahead of them rode Caratacus’s cavalry. At their head was a small group of brightly cloaked riders, clustered about the long rippling standard of their commander. The enemy horsemen were far enough away to present no immediate danger to the Thracians, Cato calculated. Glancing back he saw that the warriors they had passed shortly before were once again spreading out, marching across the route the Thracians had taken from the fort in order to cut off their line of retreat. They were committed now, Cato thought sombrely.