As the wagon careens away from the fight I struggle to hold the others in view. Once we round the curve in the road, I decide it is silly to run further and begin tugging at the drover to stop urging his mules on. At last I get him to stop and talk to me.

"Don't you think we should wait and see if we can help, man?"

"Boy, the best way we can help, as far as I can see," eyeing the awkward way I am holding the long knife the soldier gave me, "is to get back to town and send out more soldiers as soon as we can. And thats what I aim to do." He chirrups to his team and they jerk back into motion, but at a slower pace. I suppose he is right. I certainly would be of no help to anyone, I can barely figure out how to keep from cutting myself with this thing. I think I should get some instruction in how to defend myself before I live much longer, or I wont, if you take my meaning.

As the horrible sounds of the battle behind us recede into the distance, I have a chance to reflect on the ill start to our journey. Not even one day, and already an attack. I had no idea the roads were so dangerous.

"Holla!" i hear the drover shout, and see ahead a small group of marching soldiers, Romans by their garb. Their leader halts his men and listens intently as the drover tells him of the battle behind us. I had no idea the drover was noticing so much detail. All I saw was a swirl of horses and cloaks and bright steel. Quickly, the leader of the Romans directs his men. One he sends at a trot towards town, the rest he starts forward at a thumping, groundcovering lope back over the road we just came down.

"Now, boy, I"ll turn this wagon and well go back. If our lads have fought as well as I think they are capable of, these will mop up and we will be back on the road to Camulodunum tomorrow." The drover backed the team and pulled them around and headed them back toward our companions. I could see the Romans, moving in a compact group, rounding the corner of the road.