as the band of unknown horsemen sweep down the hill towards Lancelos. Aonghais, for a split second, realises that for such a large band of riders to approach this close with no warning, they must surely have come across our scouts, and dealt with them. He offers up a quick prayer for those few brave warriors, they will be remembered...

His battle sense snapping into action, he wheels his horse.

"Merchant! Take the wagons, and four of the guards, and get back as far as you can, RUN!"

He turns and sees Queen Miranda searching for a weapon, as his own riders gallop their horses past, to form a line, ready to meet the charge.

"My Queen, what are you doing?" he asks incredulously

"These are MY warriors, War Chief, and those are the raiders responsible for the attacks. I am sure I am not going to miss out on their punishment!" She said it with such ruthless determination that he was surprised, and startled.

She would be kept to the rear, that was for sure, Keridwen was with her, and also showed no sign of leaving. Exasperated, he turned back to the fore, the riders were almost closed with Lancelos, mighty he may be, but nobody was invincible.

He gave the order, anguishing over the fact that Lancelos had left his Queen, to go and challenge such a large number by himself. He could see he would have to have a quiet word with that boy, he shrugged.

His own forces, weakened already by the loss of the scouts, and at a definite disadvantage, having to charge uphill, which nobody in his right mind would willingly do, made the best of things. This was going to be an ugly pitched battle. He could see the men charging down the hill were tattered, some of them with bloody scraps tied around arms, legs and heads. They had the look of desperate men, men whose only hope of survival was all out attack, rather than a parley. Surely these must be the remnants of the force the Romans had been pursuing across the Kingdom.

Lancelos was forcing his giant horse uphill, to meet the charge of the raiders, but the slope, and the holes in the ground forced him more into a lurching gait. His sword was swinging in an arc around his head, and it was going to be very close as to how long he could keep the attackers at bay, until the Catuvellauni warriors could come to his aid.

Aonghais screamed an ancient battle cry, and urged his mount on, passing through to the front, his own warriors fanned out behind him.

The front row of the attackers reached Lancelos, and battle was joined.

The first man to face the huge youungster had his sword arm severed, the blade cartwheeling to the earth, hand still attached, and the man began what was to become the first of a long, shrill cacophony of screams, likely to go on for some time.

Lancelos was weaving a circle around himself, creating himself some room in which to work. By the time the rest of the riders had come together with an almighty crash and ring of blade on blade, there were three empty saddles, the horses trotting aimlessly away from where Lancelos had despatched their owners.

Aonghias had no time to look around, this was one of those battles that would be a hard slog, a monotony of stroke and counterstroke, arms numb with the constant pounding on shields, and the impact of blade striking bone.

If he could have turned, he might have seen the two women, trotting warily up the hill, and looking for a chance to join the fray...