Most of the marines and legionaries heard the command and obediently stepped away from the enemy. A handful, carried away by their bloodlust, continued until they were pulled back by comrades. The decurion had to whack the flat of his sword on the helmet of the last of his marines to get the man’s attention. There was a final thud of a sword striking a shield and then only the sound of rapid breathing, and the moans and cries of the wounded.

‘Clear the way!’ Cato shouted and the men between him and the survivors of the ship’s crew parted. He pointed his sword at the body of Ajax. ‘Your leader is dead. Throw down your weapons and surrender!’

There was a brief pause and one of the renegades laughed, and thrust his sword into the air. ‘Long live Ajax! Death to Rome!’

His companions took up the chant. Cato watched them coldly, waiting for them to fall silent. But they continued cheering and he looked towards the decurion. ‘Finish them!’

The decurion nodded, adjusted his grip on his shield and sword and then spat on to the deck. ‘Marines! Advance!’

They closed ranks again, grim-faced and merciless, and paced towards the last of the renegades on the ship. The latter stopped cheering and braced themselves for their final moments, determined to kill as many Romans as they could before they were wiped out.

It was swiftly over as the marines advanced, shield to shield, swords poised to stab out as they closed with the enemy. There was an uneven rattle of blows against the wall of shields, a clatter of blades and the cries of the wounded, and one last shout of ‘Long live Ajax!’ and then quiet. The marines, spattered with blood, stood over the tangle of bodies in the bow. Cato sighed wearily as he removed his helmet and mopped his brow. The slave rebellion that had begun in Crete was finally over. There were no loose ends to tie up, save the small matter of taking the other ship that was still ablaze as it made for the mangroves on the far side of the bay. They were cut off from the sea and there would be no escape for them once the other Roman warships cornered them against the mangroves.

His left arm hurt like hell now that the numbness was beginning to wear off and Cato wriggled his fingers painfully as he tried to get some feeling back into the limb. He sheathed his sword and stepped back over the bodies towards Ajax. Kneeling down, Cato grasped the gladiator’s shoulder and pulled the body over. The head, still in the helmet, lolled limply and faced away from Cato as the corpse sagged on to its back. He untied the chinstraps with the fingers of his sword hand and then, grasping the black crest, he pulled the helmet off.