Romulus had a brief moment before he was assailed from in front and behind. Novius was the more dangerous of his opponents, and might see through the only trick he could think of. The young soldier acted immediately. He ran forward and at the last moment, threw himself down on the ground just in front of Ammias, rolling forward to collide with his legs. The risky plan worked, and the veteran fell forward, cursing. Laden down with weapons and his chain mail, he was momentarily helpless. Wriggling free, Romulus jumped to his feet and delivered a huge kick to his enemy’s unprotected groin. Ammias screamed and dropped his sword.

It was the opportunity he had been praying for.

Romulus leaned over and grabbed the veteran’s gladius. But there was no chance of getting the shield as well. He pulled back to avoid a lethal thrust from Novius, who had swept forward to aid his friend. Romulus moved away, sliding his sandals carefully to make sure he did not lose his footing on the icy ground. The little legionary did not pursue him, instead helping up Ammias, who looked more embarrassed than anything. Romulus’ manoeuvre had been something only a novice would fall for. Wincing in pain, Ammias pulled out his pugio and waved it at him.

‘Ready to feel this in your guts?’ he cried.

‘Come and try,’ sneered Romulus, holding up the gladius.

The two veterans made for him at the trot.

Romulus breathed deeply, filling his lungs with cold air. His situation was only a fraction less critical than it had been. He glanced over his shoulder to see how Brennus was doing. To his relief, the Gaul was still unhurt. He was dancing around Optatus, ducking and weaving away from thrusts of the big soldier’s sword.

Again Romulus’ enemies split up, preparing to hit him simultaneously this time.

His fingers closed tightly around the sword’s bone hilt as he watched them approach. It was times like this which separated cowards from the courageous. There was only one thing to do, thought Romulus. Go on the attack. If he waited until they reached him, it would be over in a few heartbeats. Which one? It took a mere instant to decide. Novius. It was Novius who was smaller.

Romulus charged straight at the little legionary, whose eyes widened at his audacity. Preparing himself, Novius ducked behind his scutum, protecting himself from his neck to his lower legs. The curved shield’s size meant that it was almost impossible to deliver a fatal blow to the man holding it. But that was not Romulus’ intention. Closing in, he feinted to one side, letting Novius think that he was attacking from his right. The legionary raised his gladius, ready to strike. At the last instant, the young soldier danced the other way and dropped his left shoulder. With an almighty heave, he barged into Novius’ scutum, using his superior body weight to drive the legionary backwards. Used to having a comrade on his left side to defend him, Novius was caught unawares. Then his caligae slipped on a patch of frost and he fell, landing on the flat of his back. The impact drove the air from his lungs, winding him.

Romulus acted fast. Pulling the heavy scutum up and out of the way, he thrust his sword into his enemy’s throat. Novius’ pupils dilated with shock as the sharp iron blade sliced through soft flesh to grate off the vertebrae in his neck. Bright red blood gushed from the wound, staining the ground beneath. Novius’ mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. Two heartbeats later, he was dead.

It was a quick end for the malevolent little legionary, thought Romulus. Too quick.

He looked back. Pelting in, Ammias was only a few paces away. His voice was distorted in a scream of fury. Again Romulus had to retreat without a shield. But his opponent was able to pick up a gladius as he stepped over Novius’ body. They shuffled around, trading blows, each searching for weaknesses in the other. Twice, Ammias shoved his gilt shield boss at Romulus’ face, but the young soldier was ready for the classic move and dodged backwards both times. Frustrated and angered by Novius’ death, the veteran’s attacks grew more frenzied.

Stay calm, Romulus thought. He’ll make a mistake eventually. They always do.

From behind him came the unmistakable sound of a man crying out in pain.

Romulus couldn’t help himself. He turned to see what had happened. Optatus had sliced Brennus across his left arm, opening a long cut from his elbow to his wrist. As blood welled from the wound, the Gaul desperately retreated, trying to avoid further injury.

Too late, the young soldier remembered Ammias. In slow motion, he spun back. His enemy’s shield boss hit him full in the chest and Romulus heard a dull crack as two of his ribs broke. Used like this, the Roman scutum was an excellent offensive weapon. Stars cascaded across Romulus’ vision and he landed heavily, dropping his sword.

At once Ammias kicked it out of reach. Snarling with rage, he stooped over Romulus. ‘You killed my friend,’ he growled. ‘And the Gaulish bastard did for Primitivus. Now it’s your turn.’

Romulus clenched his jaw in an effort not to cry out. Sharp needles were stabbing him with every breath. Sensing his weakness, the grinning veteran kicked him viciously.

He nearly passed out from the pain.

‘Like that?’ gloated Ammias. ‘Slave scum.’

Romulus could not answer. Through slitted eyes, he saw his opponent’s gladius rise up.

Roars of approval came from the watching legionaries. The unexpected entertainment was proving to be hugely enjoyable. It was all the better if one of their comrades was victorious.

Enjoying his moment of victory, Ammias paused.

Romulus knew that death was an instant away. When the sword came down, his life would be over. A procession of thoughts flashed through his mind. Now there would be no chance to help Brennus. Or Tarquinius. No possible return to Rome. No reunion with Fabiola. And no revenge on Gemellus.

Had Jupiter and Mithras protected him for so long, only for him to die like a dog?

Scrabbling with his fingernails at the hard earth, Romulus managed to scoop up a small handful.

Grimacing, the veteran thrust downwards.

Ignoring the agony from his ribs, Romulus rolled to one side, sweeping up his arm at the same time. Ammias’ move brought him within reach, and at the last moment, the young soldier opened his hand. Particles of dirt filled his enemy’s eyes and his gladius plunged into the ground, missing Romulus by a handbreadth.

Blinded, Ammias cried out in agony.

Romulus seized the moment and punched him in the solar plexus, badly bruising his right fist against the veteran’s chain mail.

Letting go of his sword hilt, Ammias went down, his mouth open in an ‘O’ of surprise.

A shocked silence fell over the assembled soldiers.

Holding his ribs with his left hand, Romulus got to his knees.

Beside him, Ammias was rolling around, trying to find his gladius.

Romulus got there first. Pulling it free with a grunt of effort, he smashed the flat of the blade across his enemy’s face. There was a sound of cartilage breaking, which was followed by a strangled cry. Ammias reeled backwards, clutching his ruined nose. Blood poured from between his fingers; his eyes were inflamed and full of grit. He was no longer capable of fighting. Romulus briefly considered killing him. After all, Ammias was one of the men who had tried to murder him on multiple occasions, had been instrumental in turning the whole legion against him. But he was unarmed and unable to defend himself. Ripping Ammias’ scutum from his grip, Romulus stood.

He was no cold-blooded murderer. And Brennus needed his help.

With his opponent already weakened by blood loss, Optatus was doing his level best to kill the Gaul. It was only Brennus’ huge strength that had allowed him to continue resisting the legionary’s skilful attacks. When Optatus saw Romulus running over, his efforts redoubled. Punches with his shield were followed instantly by thrusts of his gladius. It was a deadly one-two combination and difficult to resist for long.