They were close now, and after another step the arm lunged with the spear, aiming below his shield at his unprotected calves. Ferox cut across with his sword, saw splinters come from the wooden shaft, but knew that he had not done much damage.
‘Huh!’ the three pirates grunted as they came forward together, close enough that Ferox could see that the spearman had stained teeth and a scar across the bridge of his nose. The man feinted low, and then turned it into an upwards thrust, trying to get past the side of his shield. He blocked it, the spearhead biting through the calfskin outer layer and the board of his shield. Ferox stabbed forward, elbow back and sword at eye level, and the pirate tried to dodge back, but the next rank was too close and the long point of the gladius speared into his left eye. It was not a fatal wound, for he had pulled away enough to stop that, but the black-clad man dropped his spear and staggered back. The roof of shields wavered. A stone dropped from up above, through the opening and fell harmlessly onto the ground, somehow missing everyone in the crowd. The testudo closed again and the next missile banged off the overlapping shields.
Longinus and Vindex were watching their opponents, waiting for a chance, and the enemy were just as cautious. After a moment of confusion, the wounded pirate was hustled to the back of the formation and a new opponent came at Ferox. This one had dyed his beard black, but the dye was washing out and there was plenty of pale grey in it. He had his sword up, matching Ferox’s stance. The pirate feinted, but held back when the centurion twitched his shield up and was about to jab forward.
‘You’re going to die, Roman.’ The man hissed in a thick Rhineland accent. It was a shock, because these warriors so rarely made any sound. Ferox did not have the breath to spare for an answer. Next to him, Longinus took a cut to the shoulder, but it was not a strong blow and his mail was not broken. Vindex slashed and was rewarded with a yelp as he grazed the face between the cheek pieces of a helmet.
Ferox’s opponent punched at him with his shield, a savage blow that rocked him back and he only just had time to sway to the side as the point of the man’s gladius stabbed where his head had just been.
‘You’re going to die.’ The man was laughing, but the sound was nervous and Ferox had already recovered. A bold warrior would have followed up the advantage and tried to push him back, but men in a testudo liked to huddle together because it made them feel safer. Ferox was tired, his legs and arms feeling as heavy as lead and just as soft, but he stamped his left foot forward and punched with the boss of his own shield, wishing he had a solid legionary scutum rather than this light shield taken from the pirates. The man gave way only a little and laughed at him again.
A large block of stone hit the roof of the entrance way just behind him, flinging pebbles and shards of rock against his back. A Batavian swore vilely in a mixture of his own language and camp Latin. Ferox’s opponent attacked, sword low and trying to slip past the side of his shield, but failing.
The grey stone was almost a foot long and half as big on each side and hit the top of the shield above the pirate’s head, brushing it aside and slamming on to his helmet. Ferox glimpsed the bronze being crushed by the weight and the man fell. Another missile followed, almost as big and far larger that the hand-sized missiles they had gathered in preparation. It shattered one of the black oval shields and the formation scattered as another warrior dropped, his shoulder broken. Men were screaming, panicking, and then a splash of steaming liquid spattered down. There was not much, but one man was screaming as his face burned, and others cursed or yelled in pain. Ferox smelt the rancid tang of burning olive oil and heard a woman’s excited shout.
The archers stopped shooting. Behind the ruined testudo stood the blond-haired warrior, staring in shock at the carnage.
‘Bastard!’ Segovax pushed at Ferox so that he had to drop his sword and grab onto the wall to stop himself being shoved off the causeway. The northerner ran at the warrior, vaulting over the dead and injured. There was no trace of his limp as he sped along. A pirate, his helmet wrenched off and one side of his face red and blistered from the oil, blocked his path. Segovax ducked a wild stroke and slashed at the man, his blade striking just under the knee and cutting clean through the man’s leg. The pirate fell, stump up in the air and spouting blood.
The tall warrior recognised him. He waited, then threw his heavy spear. Segovax raised his shield in time, but the iron head burst through the wood and kept going, striking him on the chest, so that he staggered back. The blond drew his gladius and rushed forward. Segovax threw down his useless shield, but his boot was in a slick patch of blood and he slipped, falling forward. The blond yelled in triumph, shouting something Ferox did not understand and brought his sword up ready, and ran at him.
Segovax dived, rolling as he hit the ground and thrusting up. It was instinct more than anything else, and if he missed he was surely dead, but the stubby point of his army issue sword took the blond in the groin. The shout of victory turned into an unearthly shriek of pain. The northerner twisted the blade and then pushed it in harder with both hands. Scream turning into a sob, the pirate toppled over. Segovax stood, and grabbed the man by the hair, lifting him half up. He hacked with his sword at the pirate’s neck. The third cut finished the job.
The victor stood, face expressionless, and he lifted the severed head in his left hand, holding his sword up in his right. He glanced down at the rest of the body and spat. A shout of joy came from the top of the tower, and Ferox guessed that it was the Red Cat.
‘Come on, man!’ he shouted.
Segovax turned his back on the enemy and walked slowly along the causeway. One of the pirates was pushing himself up, moaning, and the northerner almost absent-mindedly jabbed down into his neck. Blood jetted across his leg. An arrow whisked through the air, missing him by feet, and he turned and spat his contempt at the enemy.
The second arrow hit him on the calf of his good leg, spitting it so that the iron head and an inch or two of shaft came out the other side. He staggered, and another arrow struck his left hand, making him drop the head. Ferox ran out, shield ready, and Vindex came with him. Segovax shook him off when he offered to help, so the two men used their shields to cover him as he made his way back. Arrows banged into their shields, but the bowmen no longer seemed quite so accurate and they all made it back without injury. Ferox turned and looked at the wreckage on the causeway, the dead and dying pirates, the big stones and the broken shields and dropped weapons.
‘We’re still alive, then,’ Vindex said.
‘Who threw the oil?’
‘The queen,’ Longinus said. ‘She climbed up on top of the tunnel. ‘The lady heated it up for her, and one of my lads lifted it up. There wasn’t much. Helped, though, didn’t it.’ The one-eyed warrior grinned. ‘Just as well most women don’t fight. Reckon they’d be too good at it for the rest of us. She’s gone inside,’ he added, ‘so you’ll have to thank her later. She was complaining that it was the only oil we had.’
Neither of Segovax’s wounds were too serious, but he would struggle to walk quickly or do much with his left hand. ‘Was he the one who took your family?’ Ferox asked the Red Cat when the thief came down to see his brother.
‘One of them. We will find the others as well.’ Segovax said nothing, but the fierce determination in his eyes spoke as loudly as his brother’s words. The Red Cat had cuts on his fingers, while his hands and face were heavy with a grey-brown dust.
‘They want you on the top,’ the thief added. ‘The boy thinks he has seen something. I have not, but he swears that he has.’