As the other side of his mount came into view Cato saw the boar toss back its head, its tusks goring their way deep into the belly of the horse. With a savage wrench the long snout came clear, glistening with blood as a length of intestine was torn away on the tip of one tusk. The boar’s wild red eyes widened as it caught sight of Cato and at once it turned and charged.

‘Oh shit!’ Cato grunted, diving back round the rear of the horse. The boar swept through the space he had been an instant before and then swerved and charged after him. With a terrified glance over his shoulder Cato ran, spear in hand, away to the right where the forest floor was clear. The boar came after him, like a battering ram, screeching for his blood. Any moment now his legs would be swept from under him and his back would be torn open by those tusks.

Ahead there was a thick tree trunk, an ancient oak that had fallen many years earlier and was now covered with a verdant moss, glistening in the rain. Bracing his legs, Cato leaped over it and sprawled on the far side. There was no chance of escape now. He rolled on to his back, and with the butt of the spear braced against the earth he raised the point towards the tree trunk. There was a scuffle as the boar prepared itself for the leap on the far side and then there it was, huge, bloody-faced and horrifying, sharp teeth gleaming in its open maw. It threw itself forward at Cato and its chest slammed into the broad point of the hunting spear. The boar’s flesh swallowed up the point of the spear as it plunged deep into the animal’s vital organs. The impact wrenched the shaft from Cato’s grip and the length of the spear carried the huge beast clear over Cato before the shaft snapped with a sharp splintering crack.

The boar crashed to the ground with a grunt, squealing in agony as it struggled to regain its feet. The spear had broken near to the blade and the splintered shaft protruded from a bloody wound just below the boar’s neck. Blood was gushing out and spattered the surrounding moss and the ferns as the beast tried to shake the spear tip free. Cato snatched up the broken shaft and drove the splintered end into the animal’s side, thrusting his full weight behind the length of wood. The squealing intensified and Cato felt his legs battered by the scrabbling trotters of the boar. He ignored the pain and pressed the spear shaft home, wrenching it from side to side as he leaned his weight on it. Slowly the creature’s efforts became weaker, and then ever more feeble, and Cato thrust harder with gritted teeth, hissing at the beast, ‘Just die, you bastard! Die!’