The optio and his men were turning now, running back as he had ordered, but the closest warriors sprang forward very fast. Javelins flashed as they went through the air. An auxiliary fell, a spearhead driven deep into his thigh, and beside him another man slipped or tripped. Two Britons were on him before he could push up again. They jabbed with their spears, piercing his mail, and the man writhed, back arching from the pain. Another warrior reached the soldier hit in the leg and slashed down with his long sword, easily beating aside the wounded man’s feeble attempts to block the blows. Scores more Selgovae were bounding up the slope. Hundreds more were surging around from the heights at the far end of the old fort, racing to join the hunt.

Ferox saw the optio in the middle of his men, the two upright feathers on his helmet making him seem taller than the rest, but then the man fell, perhaps hit by a stone. Two of the Tungrians went back for him only to be engulfed by the tide of warriors streaming up the slope. Ferox heard a long piercing scream, saw flashes of swords hacking and the three auxiliaries were gone. The optio’s remaining men sprinted away, some dropping shields and spears in a desperate quest for speed.

‘We are going forward,’ Ferox announced to the thirty or so Tungrians formed in three ranks at the top of the pass. ‘When I give the order, I want you to cheer harder than you ever have in your life. Then we march forward ten paces and keep banging your spears against your shields. Front rank will throw spears and the rest keep theirs ready. But we halt!’ He turned to stare at the faces, the usual mixture of young and old, all of them nervous, but some hiding it better than others. ‘Once we are done, you wait for the order and then we go back at the double the way we came and down the other side. Understand?’

Men nodded.

‘I can’t hear you.’

‘Sir!’ they shouted.

‘Good.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Forward, march!’ Ferox banged the blade of his gladius against the brass edging of his borrowed shield. The auxiliaries cheered and beat the shafts of their spears against their own shields as they went down the slope.

‘Come on!’ he shouted. ‘Make these scum hear you!’

The Selgovae looked up, surprised to see the Romans come on. Many hesitated, slowing down or stopping. A few chased after the fleeing remnants of the optio’s men.

‘Go to the side!’ Ferox yelled angrily at the fugitives and pointed with his sword. He was counting the paces in his head.

‘Halt! Front rank, throw!’