of the cavern. Many fell and were left behind, their bodies immediately

stripped and horribly mutilated.

Severus was an old hand at this style of fighting; he had experienced it

against the Britons. Noting that his enemy was reckless and untrained,

he called a halt and ordered all weapons be dropped on the ground. The

barbarians, taking it as a gesture of surrender, were deceived into

making a rash charge. Then, at Sevenis's order, the swords were

snatched up and the Romans counterattacked.

Straddling two rocks, the centurion swung his sword in almost measured,

metronomic strokes. Four barbarians dropped at his feet. He knocked

another one sprawling with the flat of his sword and slashed the throat

of one who lunged against his side. Then the frenzied tide receded and

the naked horde retreated out of hand-to-hand range.

Severus took advantage of the breathing spell to count his casualties.

Out of sixty of his soldiers, twelve lay dead or were dying. Fourteen

more sustained various wounds. The slaves had suffered the worst. More

than half were killed or missing.

He approached Venator, who was binding up a gash on one arm with a torn

piece of his tunic. The Greek wise man still carried his precious tally

sheet securely under his sash.

"Still with us, old man?"

Venator looked up, his eyes brimming with fear mixed with

determination"You'll die before me, Sevenis."

"Is that a dream or a prophecy?"

"Does it matter? None of us will see the Empire again."

Severus did not reply. The fight abruptly resumed as the barbarians

unleashed another discharge of spears and rocks that filled the air and

thumped against the shields. He quickly returned to his place in front

of the depleted square.

The Romans fought viciously, but their numbers were dwindling. Almost

all of the Syrian archers were down. The square was closing in on

itself as the withering assault continued unabated. The survivors, many

of them wounded, were exhausted and suffered from the heat and the

attack. Their swords began to sag and they switched them from one hand

to the other.

The barbarians were equally exhausted and taking huge losses, yet they

stubbornly contested every foot of the gradual slope to the never- Half

a dozen of their corpses could be counted around every slain legionary.

The mercenaries' bodies, pierced by scores of arrows, looked like

pincushions.

The giant overseer Macer was struck in one knee and the thigh. He

stayed on his feet but could not keep up with the moving formation- He

dropped behind and soon attracted a group of twenty barbarians who

swiftly surrounded him. He turned, at bay, waved his sword like a

windmill and cut three of them completely in two before the rest drew

back and hesitated in respect of his awesome strength. He shouted and

motioned for them to come close and fight.

The barbarians had learned their lesson the hard way and refused to be

drawn into arms-length combat. They stood back and launched a torrent