Ferox turned, eyes blinking as he tried to stay conscious, and he lifted the shield to parry another blow from a shaven-headed fanatic wielding a thick branch as a club. A sword took the man in the side, under the armpit, blood bubbled at his lips and Terentius drew back his blade and slashed, knocking the warrior down. One of the archers came after him, using the small round shield they carried and an axe rather than a sword. Other men were appearing all around him, and the optio yelled as he stabbed low, driving into a warrior’s groin so that his high-pitched shriek mingled with the victor’s cries. Beside him a legionary took a spear thrust to the face and sank down.

The Britons were edging back, even as the Stallion called on them to kill. Ferox saw an axe head burst through the back of his shield, throwing up jagged splinters, but the weapon stuck there and Terentius appeared and hacked again and again at the warrior’s neck until his head was left hanging by a thin sheet of skin. Longus stamped his front foot down and pounded another man with his shield, knocking him down. The Roman leaned forward, stabbed once, but his friend’s cry came too late for him to dodge the crude spear that pierced the cheek piece of his helmet and drove into the side of his mouth.

The Stallion let the spear go and clasped one hand tightly around the wrist of his sword arm. He raised the blade high, his pale skin a network of blue woad, and he looked like a demon from stories with his spiked hair and the burning savagery of his eyes. A legionary went for him, slipped on the intestines of a dying man, dropping his guard, and the priest slashed down. There was a dull clang as the blade cut through the iron helmet and the soldier fell.

Ferox barged Terentius aside. The priest was quick, his sword already back up, and he cut again, slicing through the bronze edging at the top of the shield and into the wood. Ferox fought for balance, saw the heavy sword going up again for the next attack, and cut wildly with his gladius. He felt the blade bite and dragged it across the priest’s chest, pushing as hard as he could. The sword cut down again, weaker this time, but enough to carve another rent in his shield.