Brasus let the rush pass him as he panted for breath. An older man appeared, followed by two more carrying packs.

‘You know what to do?’

‘Yes, lord.’ The old warrior had lost all his front teeth in some ancient battle so that his grin was a strange one. There was no sign of the deserter who should have been with them to show the way.

‘Then go!’

Brasus ran back to the gateway as the Bastarnae came through, yelping their strange cries and grinning like devils. He let them go, trusting that they would create plenty of chaos on their own and doubting that they would follow orders even if he gave them. Half a dozen of his men were clustered around the gate, smiling at what they had done. For the moment the Romans were hanging back or had fled, but he knew that there were still some on the tower above them.

The track outside the fort was empty. The mist was starting to rise so that he could see a little further in the pale light, but apart from a handful of his archers there was no one there. Brasus stared into the mist, longing to see shadows take shape and a rush of warriors surge out of the fog. He stared out, as if willpower and faith could make it happen just as it had led him up and over the wall. Give him two hundred more warriors and the fort was his. With one hundred he might just be able to take one of the other gates from the rear and let another column inside. The odds would still be against them, but with faith and courage it might just work,

No one came. The archers were trading shots with the Romans on the tower, keeping them busy for the moment, but as he watched one of them was pitched over by the bolt of an engine.

‘My lord!’ One of his warriors was calling and pointing excitedly. There was the red of flames coming from a building ahead of them, which showed that the old man was doing his job. Then there was the thunder of horses and he saw a line of Roman cavalry charging into the score or so of warriors who had gone down the road. A Roman was shouting and he saw a big man with a centurion’s crest coming in against the flank of his men in a lone attack.

It would not be long now. There was no sign of any break-in from the front gate, and while he could not see the rear gate from here, surely there would have been some sign by this time if they had succeeded.

Brasus rested his falx on the ground and touched one of his warriors on the shoulder to attract his attention. The man carried an ox horn trumpet slung over his shoulder.

‘Blow the signal!’ Brasus told him. ‘We’re going!’ He could sense their disappointment, but knew that they would obey. If they waited much longer there would be no chance of escape and he wanted to win, so he would return and take this fort another day. ‘Don’t run straight. There is an engine up on the tower, so dodge as you go. All of you first, and I shall follow!’