Chapter 28A bronze horn shrieked a warning. Three short blasts, followed by a longer one.
Ambush.
Lavinia opened her eyes and lurched from her cot, fumbling in the dark for her sword. The top of her head brushed the canopy of the tent. She was glad she had slept in her woollen undershirt and boots. One of the slaves scurried into the tent to help her into her linen armour—not as tough as iron or leather, but lighter. She gnashed her teeth with impatience as the girl tightened the straps on her greaves. As soon as Lavinia was ready, she hurried from the tent. She had to get to a place of safety. That’s what Turnus and Camilla had said to do if they were attacked. Lavinia was not to fight until all other defences had been exhausted.
Throughout the Latin camp rose cries of rage and commoti
