His warriors began to murmur at this, humming like bees. Sixty or more of them had gathered, sufficient to outnumber the commander’s escort.

‘Silence!’ Diegis’ voice had become shrill. ‘Silence at once!’

The humming grew louder and men started to stamp their feet in rhythm. More of his men began to gather from their tents.

‘You will be quiet!’

The warriors ignored the shouts and the general’s escort shifted uncomfortably.

At last Brasus had raised his hand in the air and his warriors had stopped and stood still.

‘Take this place!’ Diegis had spoken more softly, but the words still dripped with hatred. ‘Take this place tomorrow and kill or take prisoner all who are inside. Only then may you leave this place and bring your spoils and captives away.’ He had stared defiantly around the gathering of warriors. ‘The king chose me to lead and until he revokes that appointment this order is as one from the lips of the king himself. Take that fort!’

Tired though he was, Diegis had climbed back onto his sweat-streaked horse and led his escort away without resting any longer. After him, the ruins of the great army began to come straggling past. Brasus remained where he was, sitting on the grass, his back rigid, and still said nothing.

‘We should go, lord.’ The old warrior who had been with Brasus from the very start hesitated before touching his shoulder. ‘Diegis is no lord, only a vain fool and he is not the king. The king, were he here, would not order such useless folly.’

Brasus had stared into the distance as if he did not hear. Lightning flashed further down the valley and thunder rumbled.

‘Lord, he has lost this battle, not us. To kill these last few Romans achieves nothing and has no honour now, for they are brave.’

At last Brasus stood up. ‘Tell the men to leave if they wish, but I must stay. Fool or not, his word is the king’s and I serve the king, and it is not for me to question what he bids me to do. Go, all of you. I must do what I must do.’

No one had left during the night, and that convinced Brasus that his path was the one for honour. He would sacrifice neither them nor more than he needed of that pitiful band of survivors who had defied them for so long. Two hours after dawn he had all the men go up to the ramparts and wait. ‘Show yourselves to the Romans, but do not attack or shoot unless they attack you.’

‘Lord?’ The old warrior was puzzled, but obeyed.

When the others had gone Brasus prepared for the last fight, cleaning and oiling his armour, sharpening his falx and a smaller dagger he would take in his belt. When the sun was almost at its highest he walked through the main gate of the fort and paced down the road towards the last stronghold. Brasus did not hurry and he had not asked for trumpeters to herald his coming. The Romans would see him and if this Ferox was the man that he thought him to be, he would know what it meant.