‘Close up!’ Macro shouted a short distance off, and the order was repeated by all the section leaders as little knots of legionaries closed in on the Britons. Behind their large rectangular shields the eyes of the Romans darted about, searching for the nearest exposed enemy body to thrust their short swords into. Cato blinked as a gust blew several large flakes into his face, momentarily obscuring his sight. A large shadow reared up in front of him. Fingers closed over the top his shield rim, inches from his face, and wrenched it to one side. Instinctively Cato thrust his arm forward, throwing his full weight behind it. The Briton’s grip held firm and the bottom of the shield pivoted up so that it caught him a crunching blow between the legs. He groaned, eased his grip and began to double up. Cato smashed the pommel of his sword onto the back of the man’s head to help him on his way. He stepped over the prone form, glancing round to make sure that his section was still with him. Behind their dark rectangular shields, the legionaries thrust forward on each side, fighting shoulder to shoulder as they cut down the struggling mass of Britons. There was no organised resistance to the ambush, the Britons simply fought to free themselves of their dead and wounded, and of the tangle of equipment and bent javelin shafts that encumbered them. Those who had broken free of this chaos desperately tried to smash a way through the closing ring of shields and deadly flickering blades of the Roman short swords. But very few escaped, and with a cold, ruthless efficiency the legionaries pressed forward, killing all before them.

Then, above the shouts and cries of men and the clatter and clash of weapons, a strident brass note carried across the settlement as, belatedly, Hortensius gave the signal for attack. To make best use of what was left of the element of surprise, Hortensius threw his men onto the dark column of British warriors entering the settlement. The loud roar of the cohort’s battle cry swelled up on all sides and the Durotrigan raiding party stopped in its tracks, momentarily too stunned to react. The remaining centuries rose from the settlement’s defence ditches and swarmed over the gleam of freshly fallen snow towards their enemy. The Druid leaders tried to rally their men and form them up to face the threat, but in no time the legionaries were in amongst them, quickly cutting the tribesmen to pieces.