‘Look out!’ Vindex yelled.

Ferox turned, saw the spear coming at him, the head glinting as it spun, and just had time to raise the shield and catch it on the boss. The blow dented the iron, rocking him back and jarring his arm. He ducked to avoid the deflected spear.

The German drew his sword, one of the long, slim spatha-swords issued to Roman cavalrymen.

‘Come on, you eunuch, or do I have to sew your balls back on!’ Ferox yelled at him in Latin.

There was no sign of understanding, and the big warrior came on. Ferox could see that this one knew what he was doing and in spite of his size was light-footed. The way the man moved reminded him of the big cats he had seen in the arena, those great lions and tigers which moved with such poise.

‘Last chance,’ the man said, his gaze never leaving the centurion. He jumped from the first to the second stone, water spurting up as his weight landed on it.

The bald warrior was struggling through the mud, but he had to trust Vindex to deal with the man. Ferox hefted the unfamiliar shield, keeping his sword low. He wondered whether he should have taken off the helmet, for speed might well be the key to this fight. It was too late now, with the big warrior only a couple of yards away. The man bounded forward again, and used the motion to lunge with his spatha. The blade was nearly three feet long, adding to the man’s great length of arm as the point jabbed at him, faster than he expected. Ferox braced the shield, and saw the iron tip of the warrior’s sword burst through the single layer of wood. He tried to keep it stuck in the wood, twisting the shield away in the hope of pulling the sword out of the warrior’s hand, but the German was too quick for him. The big-bearded face broke into a smile.

Ferox jabbed low, saw the red shield blocking and pulled back, whipping the blade high for a thrust at the man’s neck. The German swayed back and stopped grinning, but Ferox knew that he was in trouble. His opponent had a longer reach, and with the mud it would be hard for him to close the distance and get past his guard. The big German also looked fresh, whereas he was tired. He had one chance, and hoped that his memory was accurate. There was the sound of grunting and effort over to his left, which must be Vindex and the bald warrior trying their best to hew each other down as they struggled through the mud.