With a low rumble like a distant swarm of bees, the Batavians began to chant the barritus. The legionaries remained silent, and Ferox knew that to the watching enemy the Romans would seem strangely impassive, almost inhuman. The Britons were screaming again and blowing their horns. Some started forward, but others called to them to stay. Then their yelling grew so loud that it drowned out the rising chant of the Batavians and Ferox saw that the Stallion was driving along in front of his men again. A scorpio spat out its missile, but the bolt whisked past the heads of the two ponies and slammed into a man standing in the front rank. Arrows missed and the man rode on until, at a gesture, the charioteer slowed down and the naked priest jumped to the ground. As soon as he was on the grass a bolt hit his charioteer in the head and pitched him over, while a second drove deep into the black pony’s belly, so that it reared and screamed. A dozen arrows sped towards them, killing both horses, without touching the Stallion apart from one that stuck in the stag’s head. Ferox saw him spit on the arrow and then pull the headdress on. Men appeared, handing him sword and shield, which he raised high as he yelled. The words were unclear, until the whole army took up the cry.

‘Blood of king, blood of queen!’ The Britons came forward, men flooding around the priest so that he was lost from view. ‘Blood!’ came the scream from thousands of voices.

‘Silence in the ranks. Prepare to advance.’ The centurion standing a pace ahead of the cluster of standards at the centre of the cohort of II Augusta shouted clear over the din. ‘Keep in rank and follow the standards. Forward, march.’

The four cohorts in the first line stepped off, for it was always better to meet the enemy on the move. Ferox and the cavalry were ordered to hang back and protect the flank of the infantry, but he saw Masclus send one of his turmae forward to skirmish and that was the right thing.

‘Good luck, men!’ Neratius Marcellus had the rich, carrying voice of a trained orator. Ferox had not seen him come, but he was riding along behind his front rank and urging his men on.

‘Blood!’ screamed the Britons and charged.

XXVIII