They ran on, around the corner, and fifty paces ahead was an open square, which must surely link to alleys going off in all directions, so they sprinted ahead. Men appeared, half a dozen of them, and they were archers and sent arrows whipping through the night. Ferox’s new shield shuddered as one struck home, and behind him there was a deep sigh. Brennus the Brigantian had an arrow through his remaining eye, and a legionary was squealing because another arrow had struck him in the thigh. More men appeared, warriors with shields this time.

‘Form up!’ Ferox shouted, but there was not time and what with the darkness and men running in from all sides, the square became filled with a mix of men, stabbing, cutting, defending. One legionary turned with a start, and stabbed a comrade in the face before he could check the blow. He stared aghast, until a Nicopolitan rammed a spear through his segmented armour and out the far side. Ferox killed a man, chopping down into his skull, freed the blade, pushed on, used his shield to hook an opponent’s aside, and then thrust into the man’s throat. Sentius beat another man down through sheer brute force, and the training and rush of the attackers swept the square clear.

More arrows came in, this time from the rooftops. Caecilius was struck in the shoulder, then took another through the leg. A legionary opened his mouth to shout a warning and was shot through the teeth instead. There was a dull clang, like the ringing of broken bell, as an arrowhead punched through a plate in another soldier’s cuirass. He spun, was struck again and again, dropped his shield and sank to his knees. A rank of enemies appeared on the widest road coming into the square, and there were more behind them.

‘Try that way!’ Caecilius pointed in the opposite direction, hissing because of the pain from his wounds. Sentius was standing over him, covering the fallen primus pilus with his shield.

Ferox, Vindex and Bran ran off, followed by the last remaining Brigantian and a legionary, but the Roman was hit in the leg and stumbled, knocking the Briton over, and as he lay sprawled a stone slammed into the back of his head. They went around the corner, Vindex searching around for something familiar.

‘There!’ he said, before Ferox hauled him bodily into a side alley and Bran followed. There was the pounding of feet and a great crowd came running past them, dozens and dozens of men, some with weapons and some simply with clubs. The three men backed away into the shadows and no one noticed them. Ferox pointed in the opposite direction, so they went that way, turned and found themselves in an even narrower alley. It ended up in a blank end, but there were steps leading onto the roof of one of the buildings, so they went cautiously up.

No one was in sight. There was shouting, lots of it, from some way off, presumably from the square. Ferox went across the flat roof of the building to the far side and could see nothing. He climbed onto the low wall and jumped across the alleyway onto another roof. Bran came next, then Vindex, whose boot smashed through the mud roof. If anyone was below they either did not notice or were too frightened to investigate, and after a struggle and much cursing on Vindex’s part, they freed him.