Uther gazed up at his brother, amazed at his understanding of their enemy and the cool detached way he could see how the battle would be fought. He glanced down the hill again. 'How will we stop them? We're so few.' Fear rose from his stomach, draining his mouth of moisture. Reaching back for his water skin, he drank greedily.
Ambrosius looked at him and smiled. 'We are Britons, Uther. The people of this land.' He gestured to the writhing, eager ranks of tribesmen in front of them. 'We are the Iceni, the Catuvellauni, the Trinovante, Atrebates and Parisi to name but a few of the clans gathered here. What chance, you might ask, do these Saxon invaders have against us?'
Before Uther could reply, the Saxon war drums began to beat and the solid mass of men in the centre surged forward, hefti
