Along the wall the legionaries and Thracians stepped up to the parapet. Macro watched as the tribesmen swarmed up the slope. There was another blast from the horn and this time it was met with a deafening roar from the warriors. He could not help a cruel smile. Even though Caratacus had chosen to attack from the darkness, his men would arrive in a wave and be hard to miss. Especially as they neared the outer ditch.

He called out again. ‘Torches!’

All along the wall fire glittered in shallow arcs as the defenders hurled small blazing bundles of kindling tied to lengths of wood. The torches struck the slope and rolled a short distance. Their flames cast pools of light by which Macro could see the first of the attackers loom out of the darkness. Their cheering had died down as they struggled up the incline towards the fort.

‘Ready javelins!’

The defenders raised their weapons, throwing arms drawn back, waiting for the order.

Macro waited until he could see men all along the line of the slope, clambering up towards the outer ditch. He calmly waited a moment longer until he was certain they were within range so that not a single weapon would be wasted.

‘Loose!’

A chorus of grunts greeted the order as the men hurled their weapons out into the darkness. Then the shafts flickered into view of the glow of the torches as they rained down into the packed ranks of the enemy. Macro saw several of the tribesmen struck down and there were cries of pain from the horde racing towards the ditch.

‘Continue, at will!’