Ferox went back, ducking as the man slashed across his body. The Brigantian and the other warrior exchanged blows and neither seemed to have the advantage. Ferox was back in the doorway to the tent, and threw his dagger, making the man fling up his sword to block the throw. It gave Ferox a second and he searched for a weapon, but saw none, so yanked the sheet from the cowering woman and whipped it towards the warrior. He flinched, stepping away, advanced again, so Ferox threw it over him and for a moment he was tangled.

‘Here!’ Vindex had lifted the screen and threw his sword. Ferox caught it as the man freed himself and was about to strike when the point of a spear burst through the warrior’s tunic. His mouth was open, his eyes wide as he stared in disbelief, and the trooper from the ala Britannica grunted as he twisted the shaft and tried to pull it free. Arrian appeared behind him, his face flushed.

‘By all the gods, Odysseus and Diomedes,’ he gasped. ‘Do you have him?’

Ferox turned to Vindex.

‘Aye, safe and sound. Mostly anyway.’ The warrior named Cunominus came through, leading the prince, who had his arms tied behind his back and a bruise swelling on his cheek. ‘Got ideas,’ Vindex explained. ‘Do we take the lassies?’

‘Only if they want to go,’ Ferox replied before Arrian could intervene. ‘If that is all right, sir.’

‘I suppose so.’ Arrian stared around him at the tent. Some of its furnishings more lavish than anything in the Roman camp. ‘The horses are outside.’

‘Then we had better sound the recall and get away from here.’

‘What? Oh yes, of course.’ Arrian had his sword out and prodded at the sheet on the floor. ‘I’m sure this is silk. Sorry… but look at this place?’

‘Rather look at the lasses,’ Vindex said.

Arrian grinned nervously. The girl from the bed had a cloak around her, and not much else, and was clinging to the other. Together they could easily be sisters, with long, black hair and eyes that looked as dark in the flickering lamplight. ‘She cannot ride like that…’ Arrian was not really concentrating. ‘But Herakles’ balls, man, you did it.’

‘We did it, sir,’ Ferox said. ‘And we need to go.’

‘But they’re running like sheep.’ One hundred men from ala Britannica had attacked from the south, and Bran with forty Brigantes had come in from the north. Both had ridden by night and camped by day for the last four days, going far to the east before looping back. Fortune had been on their side, helped by the enemy’s carelessness, for Sarmatians would never have been surprised so easily.

‘Then we had better be away before they stop and realise how few of us there are, hadn’t we?’

‘Of course.’ Arrian took a deep breath. ‘Lord prince, my name is Flavius Arrian and I am a tribune of Legio Hispana. I would like you to come with us, and can assure you that your person will be respected and that you will be welcomed by my commander as a guest.’ Arbandes was about to say something when Arrian cut him off. ‘However, my men are in danger here, so if you refuse to come or give me any trouble on our journey then I will have not the slightest hesitation in ordering your execution. So will you come?’