Vindex grunted as he stabbed the one on horseback, using his knife and driving it upwards between the scales of the man’s armour. The two men next to the dead priest sprang up, reaching for their swords. Ferox headed for the one standing over Crispinus, but the man ignored him and slashed down at the tribune. The young aristocrat just rolled out of the way, swinging his legs, trying to wrap them round the soldier’s ankles and trip him. The legionary sprang away, and then turned as Ferox came at him.

Their blades met, and the centurion felt his arm jar with the shock. Both men jumped back, the soldier stumbling as he tripped over the tribune, but before Ferox could follow up one of the other soldiers came at him from the side. Vindex was fighting with the last man, which left him to deal with two. He gave ground, making room for himself.

A spear hissed through the air so close that he felt its wind. It struck the soldier attacking on his right full in the stomach, punching through his mail cuirass and flinging him on to his back. The other man was struggling to free himself from the tribune’s legs, and raised his sword to deal with the annoyance. Ferox bounded forward, screaming, and slashed at the man’s head, heard the clash of iron on the bronze helmet, saw the man stagger, and then sliced low, hitting him below the knee with such force that he severed the leg. The legionary fell. He was still trying to hold his sword up protectively. Ferox kicked the man’s arm so that he dropped it. He leaned forward, took careful aim, and drove the tip of his sword through the legionary’s left eye.

‘Mongrel,’ he said under his breath.

There was a grunt as Vindex cut down his opponent. Ferox turned and saw Gannascus sitting on horseback just a few paces away. The German was smiling.

‘Good throw,’ Ferox told him.

‘Only if I was aiming at him.’ The big man roared with laughter. He did not seem interested in an explanation. His men just watched.

‘Thank you,’ Ferox said. ‘Those men needed to be killed.’

The German shrugged, then walked his horse over and retrieved his spear. ‘The horses?’ he said. ‘They don’t need them any more.’

‘You can take three.’

Gannascus leaned down and offered his hand. ‘We go now.’

Ferox took it, and felt his hand being crushed. ‘Thank you. Send our greetings to the high king.’

The German shouted something and a couple of his men came to lead the horses away. Ferox saw them pick out Flaccus’ stallion, but did not stop them. Expensive though it was, there was no harm in letting it vanish along with its master.

Vindex had helped Crispinus to his feet and cut him free.