Stepping over the body of the man he had knocked out Cato saw an exposed armpit and instinctively drove the tip of his short sword into the man’s chest, yanked it back and looked for the next target. Mandrax had lost his sword and was using the Wolf standard like a cross-staff, thrusting with the ends and knocking men down with vicious swipes from the side. Cato kept his distance and turned just in time to see a man rushing at him with a levelled spear. The Centurion threw his shield up and the blade struck the curved surface of the boss and glanced off to the side. Without any warning the warrior let go of the spear and grabbed the rim of Cato’s shield, wrenching it from the Roman’s grip. Before Cato could react the man’s hands were at his throat and the impetus of the warrior’s attack drove Cato on to the ground. He felt rough hands tightening their grip, thumbs pressing hard on his windpipe. Cato’s right arm was pinned down under his back, the left was too weak to shift the man on its own, and Cato could only flail at his back, grabbing the man’s hair and trying to yank his head back.

Suddenly the man lunged forward, teeth bared, as though he were trying to bite Cato on the nose. The centurion yanked his head to one side and caught the man with the edge of his cheek guard. For an instant the grip on his throat relaxed and Cato smashed his helmet up, crushing his enemy’s nose with the solid metal brim. The warrior howled, and instinctively reached for his face. As soon as he was free of the stranglehold Cato grabbed the handle of his dagger and ripped the short broad blade from his scabbard. Raising it behind the man’s back he thrust the tip into the base of the Briton’s skull.

The man stiffened, muscles suddenly rigid, then he started trembling. Cato let go of the dagger handle and heaved the body to one side as he scrambled back to his feet.