One of the warriors plucked an arrow from the ground, drew back his bow and loosed, sending the missile straight into the target and there was a dull clang as it punched through an iron plate of the cuirass. The other archer fired a moment later with the same effect. Ferox thought back to the ambush and the Batavians shot down by hidden archers. He had never seen arrows fly with such force unless they came from a ballista. The next arrows went higher, the first clattering off the helmet to the mocking applause of the crowd. Then there was a cheer as the next one drove into the bronze and stuck there.

‘This doesn’t look too friendly,’ Vindex said.

Gannascus acted as if he had not noticed them until now. ‘Roman!’ he called to Ferox. ‘Want to try?’

The Silures were not archers. As a boy Ferox learned how to use a sling, but it was not until he went to Rome and trained with the Praetorians that he had been taught to shoot a bow. He had practised a little since then, especially when he was on the Danube, but had not even held a bow for years.

One of the Germans grinned as he handed him a bow. The warrior was taller than he was and so was his bow, but Ferox was surprised at how light and well balanced it felt. There were two arrows in the ground beside him, and after feeling the taut string, he reached down and plucked one. He nocked it, began to pull and felt the appalling strength holding the string back. Grunting, he used all his might to draw it. His left arm was straining to keep straight, his right hand juddering with the effort. He tried to steady it, breathing out before he loosed, but it all felt wrong and he was not surprised when the arrow went high and wide over the rampart and outside.

‘Some poor bastard of a shepherd’s probably having a bad day!’ Vindex commented.

The Germans roared with laughter. Ferox reached for the second arrow, nocked it and drew all in one motion, doing his best not to think and just letting his muscles take over. One thing he had learned long ago was that if a shot felt right then it flew true and to the mark. As soon as he had the string to his chest he loosed and if the aim was not perfect it was better than before. It missed the armour and drove deep into the post on which the straw figure was mounted, piercing the straw just where it divided to form the legs.