The Eagle and the Wolves

'Now, Cato!' Macro shouted.

'Follow me!' Cato called to his men, and charged up the street.

A few of the Durotigans, those with cool heads, tried to stand their ground. But they were quickly overwhelmed and cut down. The rest broke and ran down the street to the right, ducking into the shelter of any side alleys, casting terrified looks back at their pursuers as the Wolves chased after them.

Cato drew up and looked round, wide-eyed and breathing hard through clenched teeth. Mandrax was behind him, standard in one hand and blood-smeared sword in the other. The Atrebatan warrior gri

'No!' Cato shouted. 'Not now. Leave the heads till later. There's no time.'

With a look of disgust Mandrax released the man's hair and snatched up his standard. Then Cato saw that some of the rest of his cohort had already taken a few heads, and others were busy looking for more.

'Drop those!' Cato shouted in Celtic. 'Drop 'em, I said! Form up!'

Reluctantly, the men obeyed, hurriedly forming a solid block across the street that ran up to the gates of the royal enclosure. As soon as the Wolves were ready, Cato ordered them to move forward fifty paces, halt and wait for orders. Then he ran back to the junction. The legionaries were easily holding off the main body of the enemy that filled the street in the direction of Calleva's main gate for as far as Cato could see.

Macro suddenly appeared, shoving his way through the rear ranks of his men. He saw Cato and nodded grudgingly.

'Nice work… Take your men forward and make sure the route to the enclosure is kept open.'

'Right.'

'As my lot get close to the gate, you get yours inside. Be ready to close it the instant the last man passes through.'

Cato smiled faintly. 'That wouldn't be you, by any chance?'

'Get going.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato trotted back to his men and ordered them forward. They met no further resistance from the Durotrigans who had been separated from the main body of the enemy, and the only ones they saw quickly ran off at the sight of Cato and his men. Then the street widened slightly as it turned a corner and there was the entrance to the royal enclosure. The gates were open and several of the king's bodyguard, fully armed, were standing along the palisade on either side. Cadminius stood in the entrance and beckoned to Cato and his men as they approached. Cato ran over to him.

'Macro and the last of our men are not far behind. We'll have to keep the gate open for them.'

'Keep it open?' Cadminius shook his head. 'Can't risk it. Get your men in and Macro'll have to take his chances.'

'No,' Cato said firmly. 'The gate stays open until I say.'

Cadminius opened his mouth to protest, but there was a ruthless gleam in Cato's eyes, and the Atrebatan looked away and nodded.

'All right… We'll need every man we can get to defend the enclosure.'

'That's right,' Cato replied quietly. He turned back to his men. 'Inside. Behind the gate, close formation.'

As the Wolves marched inside, Cato indicated the position for Mandrax, and the men formed up around their standard, facing back down the street towards the sounds of fighting. They did not have to wait long for the legionaries to appear. Macro's men came into sight, falling back at a steady pace, keeping a tight formation across the street as they fended off the Durotrigan mass desperately trying to force a way through the shields.

'Pass all the javelins to the front!' Cato called out to his men, and the few remaining javelins were thrust forward into the hands of the men of the front rank, who quickly sheathed their swords.

'You'll be using them as spears,' Cato said. 'No throwing. Front rank, close up, overlapping shields! Two paces forward. Thrust over the rims.'

There was a clatter as the men aligned their shields and readied their javelins in a tight overhead grip. This way they would have a longer strike range, and present a more u

From the Roman ranks Macro shouted an order for the rear two lines to break formation and man the palisade. The men trotted past the sides of the Wolves and hurried up on to the narrow sentry walk either side of the gate. The Roman line, thi

With a quick rearward glance, Macro sized up the position and after a final savage roar at the Durotrigans he shouted to the last of his men, 'Run for it!'

They turned and sprinted through the gate as Cato ordered his spearmen forward. At the sight of the wicked iron javelin points protruding over the wall of oval auxiliary shields the Durotrigans instinctively shrank back.

'Close the gate!' Cato shouted, throwing his shoulder to the timbers as Cadminius and his warriors quickly heaved the gate into place. Suddenly the gate shivered and started to swing back as the Durotrigans recovered and charged forwards again.

'Help! Help here!' Cato cried out, and the Wolves surged forward, adding their weight to those desperately trying to seal the entrance. For a moment the gate was still, caught between the two straining forces, then Cato felt his boots sliding backwards.

'Heave! Come on, you bastards! Heave!'

More men joined them, Macro and his legionaries among them, and the gate was held still again, no more than a foot from the timber frame and locking bracket. Macro drew back and looked up to the men on the palisade.

'Use your daggers! Hit 'em with anything you've got. Throw your fucking swords at them, if you have to!'

As the men drew their daggers and hurled them down into the dense mass straining at the gate, the enemy's attention was distracted for a crucial moment, and with one last effort the defenders closed the gate and slammed the locking bar home.

While some of the men slumped to the ground or bent double as they struggled to catch their breath Cato forced himself to stand upright. He picked up his shield, pushed his way through the men and climbed the short ladder up to the palisade. Keeping his shield raised he looked down and saw that the Durotrigans were already melting away from the enclosure, until only a small handful still hammered away at the timbers with their swords and spears.

'Keep hitting 'em,' Cato shouted to the men beside him, then leaned back to the men inside the entrance. 'Get every javelin up here, now!'

As soon as the iron-headed shafts began to strike down amongst them, even the most resolute of the Durotrigans recognised that their rage was useless, and they ran back from the gate, down the street and out of range. Cato nodded his satisfaction, and then dropped down into the enclosure to find Macro. His friend was sitting on the ground, bare-headed as he examined a dent on the top of his helmet. He ran his fingers tenderly across the scar on his scalp.