The forest’s upper limit was five hundred paces behind the rearmost of the Venicone warriors, whose initial headlong charge from the embattled camp had quickly been reduced to a long loping stride as they had weaved their way through the densely packed trees. His warriors were marching in a long, straggling column as they climbed the mountain’s unforgiving slope, moving in family groups of spearmen and archers whose breath steamed around them in the cold morning air. He spat on to the hillside’s thin turf and grunted a comment at the leader of his personal bodyguard jogging along beside him.‘Perhaps we got away clean, but I doubt it. Those Roman bastards don’t give up that easily.’The other man grimaced at the pain gnawing at his chest, as the effort of the long climb started to tell upon him.‘Aye, and we’re leaving a trail that a blind man could follow.’The king nodded, looking back at the treeline again.‘Their soldiers will never catch us, not over this ground and carrying that much weight in weapons and armour.
