When Ferox opened his eyes the boy had fallen and an older man jumped over him, thrusting with his spear at his head. He ducked his head out of the way, felt a heavy blow against the cheek piece of his helmet, stabbed forward, but was blocked by the man’s square shield. The soldier on his right was hit by a low slash, coming under the shield and slicing into his leg beneath the knee. He swayed, lowering his guard, and the warrior behind the one he was fighting thrust a long spear through the Tungrian’s eye. The dying auxiliary was pulled forward into the mass of the enemy, and his adversary stepped on to him. Ferox twisted a little to the left, punched hard with the boss of his shield and managed to knock the man back, but felt a hammer blow to his right chest as the warrior facing him slammed his spear forward. The tip caught on the fastening of the shoulder piece and broke off. If not for that fluke then he suspected that he would be down.

An auxiliary from the second rank pushed his way into the space and let Ferox concentrate on his own opponent. The man had a lined face and the look of someone who had fought many times. His eyes never left the Roman, and there was no warning when he flung his spear at the centurion’s face. Ferox raised his shield, saw the now blunt head punch through the wood and leather, and felt the clumsiness that came from the long-shafted spear stuck into it. He slashed down at the wood, managed to push the spear free, and by that time the warrior had drawn his long slim sword, the blade notched in several places.

Ferox brought his gladius up, elbow bent, blade at eye level ready to strike and waited for the warrior to slash at him. He was only dimly aware of men squaring off all around him. The warrior feinted a cut to the left of his head, once, twice, and then scythed the blade down. Ferox leaned down, lifting his shield, and saw the iron blade slice into the brass edging. His own gladius shot forward at the man’s face, was pushed aside by his shield and did no more than graze the warrior’s cheek. His shoulder and chest ached, and he was panting with sheer effort.

The warrior punched with his shield, but it was so much smaller than the scutum that it did not unbalance Ferox. His gladius shot forward again as the man’s head bowed a little, his right arm swinging down, and the point went through his mouth with such force that Ferox felt teeth smash and bone crack.