Cato woke with a start, dislodging the earth he had piled over his body. It was dark and something was snuffling through the dirt close to his face. As the centurion stirred the creature emitted a shrill squeak and scrambled away. An instant later Cato’s mind focused with a sharp intensity as he remembered everything that had occurred earlier in the day. Furious with himself for falling asleep, he lay still, listening for any signs of movement, but the only sound he could hear was the stream chuckling over a shallow bed of pebbles. Overhead, through the tangle of dead roots, he could see a few stars behind scattered wreaths of silvery cloud. Cato groped for his sword, and then gently brushed the earth away from his body. He paused a moment to see if he had attracted any attention, and then eased himself out of the entrance of the badger sett. Staying close to the ground, he crawled up the bank and raised his head above the tufts of grass growing along the edge. The landscape was a dark almost featureless mass stretching out on all sides, broken only by the unmistakable silhouettes of trees.

But, there, barely a mile away, was Calleva. Sections of the ramparts were illuminated by blazing faggots that the defenders had hurled down on to the ground in front of the town in an attempt to reveal the presence of any enemies lurking nearby. Even as Cato watched a few more blazing bundles of kindling were raised above the ramparts by tiny figures wielding pitchforks. Then the faggots were thrown over in bright flaring arcs and burst on the ground in showers of sparks.

The position of some of the attackers was obvious from several small fires ringing the main gate. Every so often a fire arrow would rise up, curve gracefully over the ramparts and disappear amongst the huts beyond. Dull red smudges behind the ramparts showed where a number of small blazes had already been started.

The situation looked desperate, and Cato briefly considered what he must do. The Second Legion was at least two days’ march away. Too far, perhaps, to arrive in time to save Calleva, and the legion’s supply depot. There was an infantry cohort a day’s march away in the opposite direction, guarding a river crossing, but they would be too few to make a difference. Besides, with the Durotrigans in the area, the centurion would have to make sure he stayed out of sight as much as possible, and that could double the length of time it would take to reach the nearest help.