The chieftain manoeuvred his horse over towards the foreigner and kicked him in the face, in reply to his insolence.

"Your brother is as hospitable as the climate," Oppius remarked to Teucer. He smiled, in defiance. The smile was also due to the fact that half of his captors had now slung their bows back over their shoulders.


"The Roman will eventually reveal what he knows of Caesar's plans. Everybody talks. I'll be more open and reveal my plans to you. I'm going to take you both back to the village. I'll take as much pleasure in keeping him alive  -  and torturing him just for the fun of it  -  as killing our unwanted visitor to these shores. And as for you brother, I'll be having you for dinner. You'll be your own last meal," the chieftain remarked and laughed, inspiring mirth in his warriors too. As his brother grinned Teucer noticed his filed, sharpened, teeth. His brother was a cannibal.

"And did you put poison in father's last meal?"

"This question has probably been eating away at you for years little brother, no? I am nothing if not a merciful leader though and I will put you out of your misery. I poisoned him. But you, through your grab for power in trying to usurp me, killed him."

Sadness and anger swelled up in his stomach and Teucer's fingers crept closer to the knife upon his belt. Despite his wound he would attempt to stand and kill his brother. Oppius witnessed the look in Teucer's eye and saw him slowly reaching for his dagger. The centurion knew however that he would be cut down by an archer before he had a chance to attack his brother. Oppius decided that it was time.

"Caradog," the Roman exclaimed, attracting the attention of the chieftain. Oppius met his enemy's baleful stare and then drew his finger across his throat as a sign.

The chieftain looked somewhat confused and amused, yet an expression of alarm soon clouded his face as he heard the sound of two arrows thud into the backs of two his archers. As soon as the arrows struck Oppius drew his knife and threw it into the remaining warrior who had an arrow upon his bow. Roscius and another legionary, unknown to the centurion, appeared from out of the trees and ran towards the enemy, roaring to distract the Britons from their prisoners. Two of the barbarians drew out arrows from their sheaths. Yet just as they both nooked their arrows they were both struck in the chests by pilums, launched with deadly accuracy and power by the advancing legionaries.

Sensing defeat Caradog turned his horse around and abandoned the fight, riding in the opposite direction to his enemy. The remaining barbarian drew his large hunting knife and ran towards Teucer, who still remained on the ground from his wound. He would at least kill one of the bastards, before fleeing too. He stood over the helpless, weakened Adiminus. But rather than his blade meeting the neck of his enemy it clanged against Oppius' sword. The warrior attacked the Roman but, after parrying the Briton's offensive, Oppius stepped inside and butted his opponent in the face, disorientating him enough to then slash the barbarian's face, twice.

His heart raced in unison with the tamp of his brother's horse upon the turf. As heavy as his eyelids felt the biting pain in his thigh kept him conscious. Teucer propped himself up as best as he could upon the ground. The grass felt cold, or perhaps it was his body growing colder, dimmer. He took a breath and nooked an arrow. Teucer grimaced as he pulled back the bow, aiming out the corner of his eye. He followed the course of the arrow not as it arced in the air and lodged itself in the back of his brother's throat.

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