There was no sign of the defenders. Macro waited for the rest of his men to join him and prepare to charge into the chamber as soon as he gave the order. A movement by one of the columns to his left drew Macro’s eye just as the man loosed an arrow. It struck the wall close to Macro’s head and he felt a chip of stone cut into his chin.

He snarled, turning towards the man.

Macro roared as he rushed down the length of the chamber towards the enemy who hurriedly prepared his next arrow. He just had time to raise the bow, draw the string and release the arrow before Macro reached him. The arrow zipped past Macro’s ear, and then he smashed his shield into his opponent, sending him flying back. He hit the floor with a solid thud. Macro looked quickly from side to side, but there was no movement except for the auxiliary soldiers spilling out into the chamber. By the light of the torches Macro saw that the man he had downed had a large stained dressing on his thigh. Near him, on the floor of the chamber, was a makeshift walking stick fashioned from a cavalry lance. He had recovered from the blow and was already reaching for his bow. Macro stepped forward and kicked it away. The man reached for the dagger in his belt instead, drawing it and making a wild slash at Macro’s leg. Macro parried the blow and stepped outside the range of the dagger.

‘Drop it!’

The gladiator shuffled away until he reached the wall of the chamber and then he leaned back and held the dagger out, ready to strike again.

‘I said drop it.’

‘Fuck you, Roman!’ the rebel spat. ‘If you want it, come and get it!’

He held the knife up, daring Macro. With an impatient sigh, Macro stepped forward, parried the dagger low on his shield and then thrust his blade into the man’s chest. He gasped under the impact, then slumped aside as Macro wrenched the blade free and turned away. ‘Any more of them here?’

None of his men replied and Macro frowned as he sheathed his sword. ‘Where the hell are they all? Where is Ajax?’

‘Sir! Over here!’

Macro found one of his men pointing to a small opening on the far side of the chamber. There was a short slope down into yet another chamber. Macro squatted and cocked his head for a better look. There was no sign of any movement. He tried to listen but the footsteps of his men and their muttering filled the chamber.

‘Stand still!’ Macro bellowed.

As the last echo faded away, he listened again. There was no sound from the chamber. Nothing. Then he heard it, the faintest of sounds, like a dog panting in the distance.