Around him the storm raged and fresh flurries of snow swirled through the air. Now that he was safely ashore, the prefect realised just how cold his body had become. He shivered violently as he tried to summon the energy to move. Before he could do so, there was a sudden scattering of stones nearby and someone sat down beside him.

‘Valerius Maxentius! Are you all right?’

He was surprised at the strength of the woman as she lifted him up and rolled him over onto his side. He nodded.

‘Come on then!’ she ordered. ‘Before you freeze.’

She drew one of his arms across her shoulder and half supported him up the beach towards a shallow ravine lined with the black forms of stunted trees. There, in the shelter of a fallen trunk, the two children crouched in the sodden mass of the prefect’s cloak.

‘Underneath. All of you.’

She joined them, and all four huddled as tightly together as they could within the wet folds, shivering violently as the storm raged on and snow settled about them. Looking out towards the headland, Maxentius could see no sign of the trireme. It was as if his flagship had never been, so completely had it been obliterated. No one else seemed to have survived. No one.

A sudden scrabbling of shingle caught his ear above the howling wind. For a moment he thought he must have imagined it. Then the sound came again, and this time he swore he could hear voices as well.

‘There’s other survivors!’ He smiled at the woman, easing himself to his knees. ‘Over here! Over here!’ he called.

A dark figure appeared round the corner of the ravine opening. Then another.

‘Here!’ The prefect waved. ‘Over here!’

The figures were still for a moment, then one of them called out, but the sense of his words was lost on the wind. He raised a spear and signalled to unseen others.

‘Valerius, be quiet!’ ordered the woman.

But it was too late. They had been seen, and more men joined the first two. Cautiously they approached the shivering Romans. By the loom of the snow on the ground, their features slowly became visible as they came nearer.

‘Mummy,’ the girl whispered. ‘Who are they?’

‘Hush, Julia!’

When the men were only a few paces away, a distant burst of lightning lit up the sky. In its pale glow the men were briefly revealed. Above their crudely cut fur cloaks, wildly spiked hair billowed in the wind. Beneath, fierce eyes blazed out of heavily tattooed faces. For a moment neither they nor the Romans moved or said a word. Then the little boy could take no more and a thin scream of blind terror split the air.

When The Eagle Hunts

Chapter Two

‘I’m sure it was around here,’ muttered Centurion Macro, glancing down a dark alley leading up from the Camulodunum quayside. ‘Any ideas?’