‘Shit!’ Cato muttered as two warriors forced themselves into the gap. One carried a hunting spear and thrust it into the stomach of an auxiliary. The second tribesman darted in, clutching a small axe which he swung into the forearm of another of the auxiliaries. The formation was breaking up as the other men instinctively backed away.

‘Hold your positions!’ Cato bellowed. Then fingers closed round the edge of his shield and tried to wrench it from him. Cato hacked at the knuckles with his sword and was rewarded with a sharp cry of agony as two digits went flying and the warrior snatched his ruined hand back. Cato saw the giant with the war hammer smash another man down using an overhead blow that crushed the auxiliary’s helmet and the skull beneath it. Blood exploded from the face and ears of his victim. More of the enemy had thrust their way into the formation. Cato could see at once that it would not hold and it would be suicide to continue with his original plan.

With a bitter stab of frustration he sucked in a deep breath. ‘Fall back! Fall back!’

He kept his shield up as he cautiously retreated step by step. The other men closed ranks and fell into step as Cato called out the timing. The enemy stayed with them, the giant leading the attack, his weapon whirling and crushing one auxiliary after another. Cato knew that he had to be dealt with before he broke the spirit of the surviving men of the century. He halted the formation, then waited for the hammer to rise up again, ready for another overhead blow. Cato launched himself forward, slamming his shield up and into the giant’s face. His nose broke with a soft crack and Cato swung his sword in a short arc round the edge of the shield and stabbed him in the armpit. There was not enough power in the blow to break through the man’s ribs and the blade carved a shallow tear across his tattoed flesh. Cato did not wait to finish the job but fell back and continued to order the retreat of the century. He saw blood streaming down the giant’s face as the man staggered back, dazed. His comrades let out a groan of anxiety at the sight and fell back from the shields of the auxiliaries, long enough for a gap to open up between the two sides. There were far more Silurians lying on the ground than Romans and the sight of the wall of shields, and the lethal points of the swords pricking out between them, was enough to deter the enemy from renewing their attack. They contented themselves with jeering at the retreating Romans before one of their chiefs had the wit to bellow at his men to replant the stakes that had been torn up.