Ferox managed to smother most of the flames, helped because a lot of the oil had seeped through the cracks between the boards. The screaming auxiliary suddenly stopped, and he turned to see Vepoc, wrapping something around the scorched arm. Then he noticed that the Brigantian had no trousers.

‘This’ll frighten them!’ Vepoc told him.

Sabinus had frozen, and was still behind the parapet when the men with the torches reached him. Beneath them, the ram pounded against the gate and the sound snapped him out of his shock. He took one of the burning torches, leaned through the gap and let it fall. A curse showed that he had missed, but he jerked back out of the way in time to let another arrow pass. ‘Another!’ Taking the second, he swung it gently to rouse the flames. ‘And you throw another from the side!’ he told the second auxiliary. ‘Now!’ Both men lobbed the torches down and Ferox heard the fire flare. ‘One more for luck!’ Sabinus said and the soldier threw the last torch down. There was black smoke, reeking of oil, rising in front of the tower.

The ram slammed into the gate. Vepoc, his backside barely covered by his mail shirt, went back to loading the scorpio. Sabinus reached down to lift one of the big stones they had brought up to the top. Trusting to the cover of the smoke, he stood between the crenulations, hefting it and then flinging it down with all his strength. There was a crack as it hit the roof of the ram’s shell.

‘Come on!’ he called to the auxiliaries. ‘The rest of them.’

The ram banged again.

‘I’m going down!’ Ferox shouted. On the lower level he saw men lifting the heated oil to tip onto the roof. It fell in a yellowish stream and the flames surged, the smoke growing thicker so that men started to cough as it blew back into the tower.

Out of the tower and onto the rampart, Ferox saw a few warriors fighting with his men, but the only ones up on the walkway were all dead, so he kept running, scooped up a scutum lying on the ground, tried not to think about its former owner and hurried down the steps.

Just as he arrived, the blunt head of the ram smashed through, shattering a plank and leaving a gaping hole just above the bar holding the two gates shut. Thick smoke came through the hole, but then he heard the screams from outside as the crew of the ram started to burn. Yet men must have been running past it, in spite of the scalding heat, for an axe head chopped down onto the bar and he could see the gates straining as they were pushed, inching inwards.

Ferox drew his sword. The ram had attacked the gates on the right, and the pair on the left, separated by a narrow arch, were not under threat. He waved at the reserves to advance, saw the commander, one of the optiones, wave back, and some way behind him could see the cavalry mounting up. ‘Come with me, all of you,’ he said to three soldiers who had been tending the fires where they had heated the oil and sand. ‘This way.’ He led them into the shadows behind the far gates.