‘We’re doomed,’ shouted one.

His cry was infectious.

‘It’s Carrhae all over again!’

Fear changed at once to panic.

Romulus glanced at the terrified faces around him. Despite the cool air, they were sweating. If something was not done fast, the legionaries would flee. And if they did that, he knew exactly what would happen. The Indians would simply run riot. The plain truly would become another Carrhae.

He could see that Brennus thought the same, but neither man knew what to say to their comrades.

‘Take courage,’ shouted a familiar voice.

Heads turned in surprise.

Pushing his way through the ranks, Tarquinius emerged to stand before the frightened soldiers. Pointedly turning his back on the enemy, he held up his hands for silence.

A hush fell over the Forgotten Legion.

‘This is a long way from Italy,’ the haruspex began. ‘A whole world away.’

Nervous laughter met his comment.

‘But that does not mean you should forget who you are. Look behind you,’ he urged. ‘At the silver eagle.’

The legionaries obeyed.

‘It is watching your every move,’ Tarquinius announced loudly.

Sensing the moment’s importance, the Rays of sunlight lit up the metal bird, and the golden thunderbolt in its talons glittered and flashed. No one could fail to be impressed by its imperious stare, thought Romulus, taking heart. Even elephants could not scare the eagle.aquilifer raised his wooden pole high.

Their pride stirred, men looked to each other for reassurance.

‘You are Roman soldiers!’ Tarquinius cried. ‘Who do not run!’

This raised a ragged cheer, but many remained unconvinced.

‘What can we do against those monsters?’ shouted a man near Romulus.

‘The fucking Parthians are no use,’ said another. ‘Their mounts will be terrified.’

Uneasy murmurs met the comment. As many knew, the musty smell of elephants made horses panic. They had to be trained to accept the presence of such strange creatures.

‘We haven’t got any flaming pigs to set among them either,’ Aemilius quipped.

There was a burst of laughter from those who got the joke. One of the more successful tactics employed against the Carthaginians’ elephants had been to coat swine in grease and pitch before setting them alight and driving the screaming creatures into the enemy’s midst.

If only we had axes, thought Romulus. Another historical method used to disable the great beasts was to run underneath and hamstring them. But Tarquinius possessed the only such weapon in the Forgotten Legion.

‘We haven’t.’ Tarquinius smiled thinly. ‘But Alexander’s hoplites learned to defeat them long ago,’ he revealed. ‘Near this very spot.’

Hope appeared in some faces. Despite all her previous glories, Greece was now under Rome’s control, its formerly invincible phalanxes no match for the legions. Surely they too could equal what a conquered people had done?

‘More recently than that,’ Tarquinius went on, ‘Roman legionaries learned to fight the elephants of Carthage and beat them. Without pigs.’

‘Tell us how,’ shouted Aemilius.

Romulus and Brennus roared in agreement and a more determined air settled over the Roman soldiers.

Tarquinius looked pleased. ‘Use the long spears,’ he said. ‘Keep them bunched together. Aim at the elephants’ sensitive spots: their trunks and eyes. They won’t advance if it’s too painful to do so.’

The nearest legionaries nodded keenly.

‘And every man with pila,’ cried the haruspex, ‘yours is the most important job of all.’

The ears of those at the rear pricked up.

‘The mahouts control these beasts. They sit on the shoulders, just behind the head, and wear little or no armour. All that protects them is the fan of leather in front,’ Tarquinius explained. ‘Kill them, and the elephants will turn and flee.’

Determination began to replace some of the fear.

‘Then it’s just the rest we have to deal with,’ joked Aemilius. ‘No problem, eh?’

It was the right thing to say. Men grinned at each other, taking strength from the knowledge that they had been through hell together before. They even laughed, slapping each other on the shoulders. They accepted that death was likely, but they would not run. That was what cowards did.

High overhead, a raven croaked. It was a good omen, and everyone’s eyes lifted to the sky.

Glancing up with the rest, Romulus watched the black bird swooping through the air from behind their position, controlling its flight with astonishing precision. Its head turned, taking in the legionaries arrayed beneath it. Bizarrely, Romulus had a real sense that it was assessing the battlefield. He could not shake off the feeling.

Seeing him look, Tarquinius also lifted his gaze as the raven crossed into no-man’s-land. Even some of the Indian troops began to stare upwards.

As it flew over the enemy lines, the bird croaked again, a raw, angry cry that pierced the air. It was if the Indians’ presence offended it in some way. Without further warning, the raven pulled in its wings and dived towards the lead elephant. Like a black stone, it hurtled downwards, aiming its powerful beak straight at the beast’s head.

Brennus had seen too. ‘What’s it doing?’

Awestruck by its suicidal bravery, Romulus did not answer.

More and more legionaries began pointing and gesticulating.

‘The raven is helping us,’ cried Tarquinius. ‘It’s a sign from the gods!’

Finally a cheer of approval left the men’s throats.

Even Pacorus and his warriors were watching, agog. ‘Mithras is watching over us,’ a number of warriors shouted. ‘He has sent his Corax to help!’

Delighted by this revelation, Romulus threw up a prayer to his new favourite deity.

Gradually the mahout on the front elephant realised that something was up. When he saw the raven plummeting towards him, he cried out in fear. His shout was enough to unsettle the massive creature; it raised its trunk and blared an alarm. Its companions’ response was immediate. Loud bugles of distress echoed up and down the Indian line, and the mahouts struggled to control their mounts. The response of their infantry and cavalry was most pleasing: to a man they looked terrified.

‘See?’ shouted Tarquinius. ‘They’re frightened of their own beasts! If we can panic them, they will turn and run.’

Now a rousing cheer went up from the legionaries.

When it was less than twenty paces above the elephant’s head, the raven suddenly pulled out of its dive and banked up into the sky again. Scores of Indian archers shot arrows at it, to no avail. Their shafts flew up in dense shoals and fell back to earth, wasted. Flapping strongly, the raven had soon climbed far out of range. Without further ado, it flew off to the west, its odd action a complete mystery.

It’s heading towards Italy, thought Romulus sadly. For some reason, a powerful image of Fabiola struck home, and he took heart.

He missed Tarquinius’ dark eyes upon him.

The black bird left unsettled elephants, angry mahouts and a less confident Indian host in its wake. The lead beast was still most unhappy, and had barged backwards out of line. Screams carried through the air as some of the closely packed infantry were trampled to death.

‘If a raven can scare an elephant like that, imagine what a dozen spears in the face will do!’ Tarquinius raised a clenched fist. ‘The Forgotten Legion!’

Proud of the name he had originally coined, Brennus echoed the cry.

A passionate roar followed the haruspex’ words. Swelling as it rolled through the ranks, the legionaries’ response was fuelled as much by desperation as it was by bravery. As at Carrhae, there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. They had to stand and fight, or die.

The men’s reasons did not matter, thought Romulus. As he knew from the arena, courage was a mixture of many emotions. What mattered was the belief that there was a chance of survival, however slim. He gripped his spear shaft tightly and held on to the tiny spark of hope in his own heart, gathering himself for the titanic struggle. Mithras, watch over us, he thought.