He snatched up his sword and saw that several of the enemy were surrounding the end of Verica’s wagon. The royal bodyguard had died defending their king and now only Cadminius remained on his feet, his kite shield held out in front of him as he dared his foes to attack, sword held to the side ready to swing at the first man foolhardy enough to challenge him. Even as Cato watched, an enemy warrior howled and threw himself forward. But the captain of the king’s bodyguard had won his position because he could best any other fighter in the Atrebatan nation, and the sword blade flickered round to meet the attack faster than Cato would have believed possible. The point went right through the stomach of the enemy warrior and burst out of his back. At once Cadminius jerked the blade free and with a snarl of contempt shouted a challenge to the rest of the men ringed about him.

But the odds facing him were just too great, and as one man feinted, Cadminius turned to meet the threat before he realised it was a trick. The blade of a spear thudded into his shoulder, causing him to drop his shield as his fingers spasmed. Then they rushed him. With a howl of rage Cadminius slashed his sword through the air and the blade struck off a man’s head, the blow sending it leaping into the air. Then Cadminius was thrown back against Verica’s wagon, swords and spears plunged deep into his chest and stomach. He made one last wild effort to wrench himself free, but he was pinned to the timbers behind and screamed in frustration, blood and spittle spraying from his lips.

He half turned his head and cried out, ‘My lord! Flee!’ Then slid to the ground, his head lolling on to his broad chest.

All this Cato saw in the briefest of moments, as the centurion grabbed his shield and raced the short distance to the rear of Verica’s wagon. A tangle of white hair rose up from the wagon, and Verica peered down at his attackers with alarm. Then he recovered his poise and his expression fixed in contempt for his enemies. The first of the warriors reached a hand up and began to pull himself towards the Atrebatan king.

‘Wolves!’ Cato screamed out as he charged home. ‘On me! On me!’

The four remaining enemies turned towards Cato, but it was already too late for the first to react. The centurion’s blade caught him high in the back and ripped through muscle and ribs to pierce his heart. Cato slammed his shield into the face of the next man as he tried to wrench the blade free, but it was jammed, and as the body slumped down the sword handle was ripped from Cato’s grasp. He stepped astride Cadminius’ body with his back to the wagon, unarmed, with only his shield to save him now.