He laughed at the absurdity of the thought.

‘Sir?’ Julius asked.

‘Silures are all mad,’ Vepoc said. ‘Every one of them.’

‘Wait, lads!’ Ferox shouted.

Warriors were at the edge of the obstacles and some started running onwards. Ferox heard the first scream as a man crashed through the thin layer of sticks covering one lillia and the stake drove into his thigh. Other men stopped where they were, raising their bows. Arrows hissed as they flew, arching high over the attackers towards the ramparts and towers. One struck the parapet just below Ferox with a dull thunk. He heard a hiss of pain, probably from someone on the floor below them.

‘Arrows and javelins, wait for the command. Aim for the ones on the road!’ Ferox shouted. There were barely a dozen archers on the walls in this sector and as always he wished he had far more, but he wanted them to wait until they were very close so that the volley would be strengthened by the thrown javelins.

The picket was almost in, with the first man already through the gate, but twenty paces behind them the dense mass of warriors was coming on and another band of much the same size was not far behind. A few men were at the outer ditch, scattered and going carefully as they tried to thread their way through the pits, stakes and caltrops. More arrows came from the archers, one whipping past not far over Ferox’s head.

‘Loose!’ Ferox bellowed.

It was hard to run fast and keep a shield upright, let alone present a wall of shields to the enemy. The knot of men staggered, seeming almost to jump back as arrows struck, closely followed by twice as many javelins. Half a dozen of the Dacians were down, others screaming in pain.

‘Scorpiones!’ Ferox called. His orders for the engines was to wait for his command for the first shot, but after that to use their own discretion.

No shield would stop the bolt of even a light engine like the scorpio, least of all at this range. There were two on the lower floor of the tower, one more up here on the top platform and a couple in each of the neighbouring towers. All of these crews could see the attackers in front of the gate without any trouble and at this range it would be hard to miss.

Ferox saw a man flung bodily by the strike of a bolt to knock down two of his comrades, and another whose head snapped back with the impact.

‘Got the bastard!’ Julius said with deep satisfaction as he began to crank the slider of the scorpio back for the next shot.

Ferox heard the gate slam shut beneath him. Of the leading group of Dacians, almost a half were down, whether moaning or quite still, and the rest fled.

‘Stones!’ he shouted. ‘Pick your targets! Make each one count and kill them! Kill them!’

Men were in the outer ditch, a few spilling over the top and charging at the next one, and far more working their way through the obstacles to get to it, and some of these were carrying ladders. On the road the second band was pushing on steadily, shields up and locked together. Ferox saw a flicker of movement and one of the shields shake as an arrow struck it and stuck fast. Then a scorpio stung, its bolt driving clean through to pin the shield to the man holding it. He fell and the wall of shields quivered, but the gap was there for just an instant before another took the dying man’s place.