Some men heeded him and faced round, shields raised and short swords held ready. Others stared wide-eyed and too frightened to think of anything but flight from the enemy. Mandrax, long-limbed and fit, reached the redoubt well ahead of Cato and turned to face the enemy, planting his standard down defiantly. Men hurried into position on either side of the standard and closed ranks. By the time Cato reached them a small, solid line stood between the men pouring into the redoubt and the Durotrigans. Those who had not been able to reach safety before the Durotrigans overtook them either died as they tried to run away, or stopped and tried to defend themselves and were quickly cut down by the overwhelming odds. But they bought some time for their comrades and most of the defenders managed to reach the redoubt, rushing either side of Cato’s small formation.

As the first Durotrigans came up against the unbroken line of shields they drew back, eyeing the Roman and his native troops warily, before turning aside in search of easier prey. Rising on his toes Cato craned his neck to try to see what had become of Macro and the legionaries. Then he saw them, a tight knot of men marching steadily towards the great hall with linked shields, Macro’s crest bobbing and twisting at the front of the formation as he cut a path through the throng of Durotrigans, all the time shouting encouragement to his men and cursing the enemy. Suddenly, Cato was aware that the Durotrigans were massing in front of him, having dealt with all the Atrebatan stragglers. They stood twenty paces away, clattering their spears against the inside of their shields and chanting their war cries with faces distorted by the wild exultation of battle-rage. Cato sensed the men either side of him flinch back from the spectacle.

‘Hold your ground!’ Cato shouted, voice worn down to a grating croak by the strain of the last few days. ‘Hold your ground!’

He glanced over towards the legionaries, cutting a path through the loose chaos that filled the enclosure. The Durotrigans were pouring in from all directions now, and some, with more presence of mind than most of their wild comrades, had thrown the locking bar to one side and opened the gate. Under the pressure of the massed warriors packed into the street on the far side the gate crashed inwards and, with a triumphant roar, the enemy swept inside. Unless Macro increased the pace they would catch the Romans before they could make the redoubt. Cato looked round at his men. ‘Hold still! Just a little longer, lads.’