There was no time to do more than nod his thanks as Cato thrust a man aside with his shield and then he was face to face with Ajax. The gladiator was wearing a Roman helmet with large cheekguards that obscured much of his face. Dark stubble covered his chin and jowls and his large dark eyes widened as he lunged forward to attack the Roman officer. The edge of his sword swept down towards Cato’s head and Cato threw the edge of the shield up to block the blow. Just as the gladiator had expected. The descending sword swept out to the side and cut round, glancing off Cato’s shoulder. The change in direction had taken some of the power from the blow, but it still struck Cato hard enough to drive him off balance and numb his arm and fingers so that his grasp of the shield handle loosened.

‘Shit...’ Cato lowered himself and leading with his numbed shoulder he sprang forward into the back of the shield, carrying it against the gladiator. The man was solidly built and rode with the blow as he absorbed the impact. Then he locked his buckler around the edge of the shield and wrenched it aside. Cato just had time to recover and step back as the other man’s sword swished past his face. For an instant, Ajax’s right arm was carried on by the momentum of the slashing cut and Cato took his chance and thrust his weapon, catching his opponent in the upper arm and opening up a good ten inches of flesh and muscle. Ajax roared with pain and anger and hacked at Cato with the backswing. There was just time to duck and Cato struck again, into the knee this time, splintering bones and cutting through ligaments. Ajax toppled away from Cato on to his side and one of the legionaries sprang forward and thrust down, deep into the gladiator’s armpit. Cato heard a rib snap and a loud grunt escaped Ajax’s lips as the blade pierced his lungs and heart. His body stiffened for a moment and then slumped forward, face down. The legionary placed his boot on the back of the cuirass and pulled his blade free and moved on to find his next opponent.

Cato stood and stared at the body, unbelieving. His enemy was dead. The hunt was over. But not quite. He shook himself out of his stupor and looked round the deck. Bodies lay sprawled across the planking, and pools and splatters of blood stained the pine timbers. Only a handful of the renegades remained, crammed into the angle of the bow, fighting on like maniacs as they shouted their defiance into the faces of the marines and legionaries.

Cato opened his mouth to speak but it was too dry and his voice caught awkwardly. He swallowed, licked his lips and tried again. ‘Fall back! Romans, fall back!’