Cato led the men back out of slingshot range and then ordered them to form line to cover the rear of the rest of the column. By the time he could turn his attention to the fight across the main battle line, the enemy were already falling back. But they had exacted as heavy a price as they had paid and the line was no more than one deep across most of its length. The next attack would undoubtedly break it, Cato realised. He hurried across to Tribune Mancinus who was having a wound to his arm dressed by an orderly.

‘We can’t get through,’ Cato informed him.

‘I saw.’ Mancinus puffed his cheeks. ‘Can’t fight our way through to Bruccium. Can’t retreat to Gobannium. Not much of a choice left, sir.’

‘No.’ Cato pointed to a small knoll near the middle of the pass. ‘That’s the spot for us.’

The tribune considered the position and shrugged. ‘As good as any place for a last stand.’

‘We’d better take up position before Caratacus comes for us again.’

Mancinus nodded and waved the orderly away as soon as the dressing was tied off. The three wagons were driven up to the top of the knoll and the teams of beasts were led a short distance away before the drivers cut their throats. Cato ordered Stellanus to gather the Thracians, of whom twelve still lived, though they had saved three more of the mounts.

‘We’ll stay by the wagons and plug any gaps if the enemy cut through.’

Stellanus cocked an eyebrow. ‘If?’

Cato ignored the comment and watched the legionaries and auxiliaries begin to fall back around the hillock. The enemy knew that the end was near and began to edge forward as Caratacus beckoned to the men of his blocking force to join in the kill. The bloodied giant had recovered from the blow to his head and nimbly climbed over the barricades and threaded his way through the stakes to lead his party, somewhat larger in number than the surviving Romans, swinging his hammer as he came.