She put a piece into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. The meat was tough and had a gamey taste. She huddled closer to the fire, although the sun was shining. Beyond the lick of yellow flames, the woodland slope was blanketed with white.

The winter had been bitter, and it wasn’t over yet. The snow lay deep and crisp between the trees. The sweaty heat of summer was a distant memory. But its bloodshed was still vivid in her mind.

Zoe swallowed, licked her lips and cut another slice. Her dark brown eyes were restless as she chewed. The countryside seemed empty and the wood was frozen still, but her gladius was ready to be grasped. There was no comfort on the road for somebody like her. She was a stranger in a hostile land.

She wore a woollen cloak and had a fur draped round her shoulders: a mangy, matted thing which she had filched. These past few months, she’d been a thief and beggar. Sleeping in byres and under hayricks. Trading her own body for a place to lay her head. And her anger had lain dormant, like a seed beneath the snow. Come spring, it would begin to grow again.

Zoe blew a cloud of breath and reached towards her wineskin. Then she heard a snapping noise and seized her gladius. Twisting round, she saw a figure on the slope above her. She sensed it was a woman, though the shape was cowled and cloaked.

Still chewing, Zoe straightened up. Her short sword caught the sunlight. The weapon’s hilt was polished ebony. The girl from whom she’d taken it had bitten Zoe’s shoulder as she died. In cold weather like this, the mark still itched.

"Show yourself," she challenged, "if you want to share the fire." The muffled figure simply stared at her. Then the hands went up and pushed the hood back. A mane of fox-red hair came spilling out.

Zoe’s heart contracted and she braced the gladius. The girl’s face seemed as pallid as the snow. Her eyes were like the pale blue sky above them. The smile that curved her lips was just as cold.

The girl called Boudicca began unfastening her cloak, as if mocking answer to the challenge. She drew the heavy folds apart and shrugged them off her shoulders. Beneath the garment, she was almost nude. Apart from the sword-belt round her waist, and the sleeve of metal scales on her right arm.

Zoe felt her mouth turn dry. She swallowed with an effort. The girl’s pale breasts were pink-tipped in the sun. The nipples budded as the cold air kissed them. Her foxy bush was bristling at her groin.

Boudicca: the British slave she’d faced in Rome’s arena. The vicious bitch whose sisters she had slain. Boudicca had followed her, relentless as a Fury. They’d fought again, but back-to-back, against a common foe. Then the girl had disappeared, as if the debt was settled. But honour wasn’t satisfied, it seemed.

She still wore the bronze arm-guard from their previous encounter, and now she drew a weapon of her own. The sword was notched, but sharp enough. The rasp cut cleanly through the brittle air. Body clenched against the cold, she started prowling forward. Zoe took a slow step backwards, shedding her own cloak.

The chill cut through her flimsy tunic and her nipples hardened. She flexed her fingers round the sword’s black hilt. "It’s Rome who killed your sisters," she said flatly. "Spilling my blood won’t stop theirs crying out."

Boudicca smiled bitterly and lunged across the snow. Zoe knocked the blow aside and danced away around the cooking fire. The nude girl dropped into a crouch, her taut breasts quivering. "What do I care of Rome?" she sneered. "The Emperor is dead."

Zoe hadn’t heard that on her travels. The daily life of peasants was unchanged. She gave a tight smile of her own. "So no-one else will have to hear him sing!"

Boudicca’s blade swished back and forth, her biceps rippling. Her mouth curled up sardonically. "You poor girl. Still living in the past. Nero put a knife to his own throat a year ago. Someone else was Emperor. And now his bodyguard have murdered him …"

Breaking off, she struck again and Zoe dodged the blade. She kicked a spray of snow at Boudicca. The girl flinched as it stung her breasts and spattered her pale features. Zoe hacked at her in turn, and Boudicca skipped clear.

Zoe flipped her sword around and levelled it again. "So who do they call Caesar now?" she asked.

The Briton wiped her cheek, her blue eyes glinting. "A man named Otho, so I hear." She feinted and drew back. "The general Vitellius has also claimed the title. His troops march from the north, they say ... But Plutus has his troupe in the next town."

Zoe’s eyes grew wide with shock. The Briton struck at once. Her gladius almost got through Zoe’s guard. The Greek girl blocked the weapon at the cost of her own balance. She stumbled back and slumped into the snow.

Boudicca smirked at that, but made no move to follow through. "I thought the news would interest you," she said.

Zoe scowled up at her, still braced for an attack. She still remembered Plutus, the lanista who had brutalised them both. It was years since Zoe had escaped his clutches, but her body still remembered every touch.

She’d been a household slave turned whore when he got hold of her. He’d moulded her with murderous intent. It was thanks to him she’d got a taste for killing. A taste like wine that made her drunk, then left her feeling sick.

Warily she clambered up. The British girl’s breasts shivered in the cold. But Boudicca’s pale eyes were calm as ever. "So do I get to share the fire?" she asked.

Zoe nodded slowly and the redhead sheathed her sword, then pulled her heavy cloak around herself. Zoe picked her own cloak up, still eyeing her opponent. She eased her gladius back into its sheath.

Crouching down beside the fire, the Briton smiled wryly. "I was minding my own business when I heard his name again. Living off the land, the way these Romans live off mine ..." She paused and helped herself to Zoe’s wineskin. "They say he needs more females for his troupe."

Zoe stood and watched her, still suspicious. "So why have you come sniffing after me?"

Boudicca’s look was almost sly. "Our paths are intertwined. My people see a magic in such things. Apart from this, I saw you fight last summer. You were a splendid sight … Achillia."

Zoe flushed uncomfortably. "That name’s behind me now." The lust with which she’d fought still troubled her. To think of this girl ogling her body … It felt like being spied on during sex.

"Whatever name you go by, you’re a queen of the arena. So why not give old Plutus what he wants? A woman with a gladius who’s good at spilling blood. Except this time the blood will be his own."

Zoe was remembering the night of her escape. The words of the old veteran who’d trained her. His bodyguard are always with him. Killers from the legions. You’re not ready to take him, girl. Not yet ...

She’d lost count of the people she had butchered since that day. She was as ready as she’d ever be.

Boudicca held out the wineskin. Zoe hunkered down and took it back. "So," she said. "And what will you be doing?"

"He’s looking out for concubines as well," the Briton said. An impish smile had spread across her face. "And I know how to fuck a man like you know how to fight. So let’s catch him between two fires, and see which burns him first."

* * *

Zoe waited in the yard beyond the Gate of Life. The stone walls loomed towards the slaty sky. She’d been told to wait until she was called forward. Her sandals scuffed the snowy cobblestones.

The sound of hammered metal broke the stillness. The hot light of a blacksmith’s forge was glowing on the far side of the yard. Zoe’s heartbeat quickened as she moved towards the entrance. A muscular black slave was striking sparks off an old sword.

She felt absurdly reassured. "Malleus," she called softly. The blacksmith paused to mop his brow but didn’t look around. "Malleus …" she repeated in the silence. Ignoring her, he smote the blade once more.

"He’s deaf, girl," said a voice behind her. Zoe turned and felt a jolt of shock. She recognised the man, although his features had been mangled. A dirty cloth was bound across his eyes.

Zoe’s hand went to her mouth. It was Galba, who had taught her how to fight. He’d also helped her to escape. "O Gods, what has he done to you?" she said.

The words came out unbidden and the blind man stared at her. "You sound like a Greek," he said after a pause. "I knew a Greek girl, once. She mocked the master to his face. Then put his whole slut-cohort to the sword. The last fight that I ever saw. Perhaps it was the finest one, as well."

Zoe’s eyes were stinging and it wasn’t from the cold. "Oh, Galba … please forgive me," she said faintly.

The veteran groped out and gripped her shoulder. "Never show your weakness, girl. Did I not teach you that? It was my choice and Malleus’s to help you get away. We stayed behind and took our punishment."

Zoe glanced towards the forge. The sweating slave had turned his head at last. Laying down his hammer, he came over to the doorway. He studied her. His full lips twitched. It was like seeing a statue try to smile.

"What happened to him?" Zoe asked: still looking up into the big man’s eyes.

"After they beat my face to pulp, they thrust reeds in his ears to deafen him. So now we must depend on one another. I guess that’s just the master’s little joke." His fingers tightened, squeezing Zoe’s shoulder. "But why have you come back here? Not to beg a second chance?"

"A second chance to butcher him is all I’m looking for."

The old man gave a twisted smile. "I’ve waited many years to hear such words. But he still has his four bodyguards, remember. And now he waits to see how you’ll perform."

Even as he spoke, one of the bodyguards appeared: a thickset, bullish-looking man, with a patterned Celtic sword behind one shoulder. "Get the next one out," he said. "The master grows impatient." Galba bowed and limped towards the gate.

The guard looked Zoe up and down. "Take off the sword," he said. "You’ll need a spear." Malleus turned to fetch her one, but Zoe touched his arm. She still carried the one he’d made for her.

Reluctantly she unbuckled her sword belt. Malleus hung the scabbard from a peg. Zoe took the trident head she carried in her pack and fitted it onto her walking staff. She wedged the holding pins in place. Her fingers were becoming numb with cold. "Hurry up," the guard complained. She turned towards the gateway. "And strip down to your loincloth, girl. He wants to see your tits."

Zoe glared at him, then took her cloak and tunic off. The cold air sank like teeth into her flesh. Shivering, she gripped the staff. The iron gate swung open. "You mustn’t let them sense your fear," murmured Galba as she passed him. She frowned and padded through to the arena.

The place was small compared to some she’d fought in. The earth was covered with a crust of snow. Here and there, the whiteness had been churned by past contestants. She saw a swathe of crimson slush – and then a dead girl lying by the wall.

She too was dressed in nothing but a loincloth. Her bare flesh had been marked by tooth and claw. She stared at Zoe blankly, her expression strangely calm. Beneath her face, the throat had been ripped out.

Zoe felt her nipples growing stiffly in the cold. Her stomach tightened to a queasy knot. She guessed at once that Plutus wasn’t seeking gladiators. In the light of past experience, there was too much risk involved. Instead, it seemed he’d branched out into beast-hunts. Women fighting animals to titillate the crowds.

She glanced around uneasily, recalling how she’d once fought hunting dogs. Snapping, snarling creatures that could not be reasoned with. She felt a film of sweat, despite the chill.

The arena had been closed for the selection. The tiers of seats were empty, but the editor’s box was full of fur-clad girls. One of them was chewing on a scrawny chicken leg. She smiled and threw the bone towards the gate. It struck the waiting Galba on the forehead. The girls burst out in giggles of delight.

These must be the concubines who fawned on the lanista. And there was Plutus seated in their midst. He looked the same as Zoe had remembered. A plump and prickly little man with curly greying hair.

"Ah – fresh meat," he said, which won more sniggers from the girls. "Let’s see if you are fit to join my troupe." He clearly hadn’t recognised his disobedient slave, but Zoe dipped her head and kept it down.

Plutus clapped his hands. She felt her heart begin to thud. The iron gate slammed closed again behind her. Across the open space, another gate was gaping open. Something shifted in the gloom, and then a wolf came prowling into view.

It was a big brute, panting steam. There was a half-starved madness in its eyes. The ribs were poking through its pelt. Perhaps it hadn’t tasted meat for weeks.

And now her dangling bosom was too tempting. She couldn’t stop the quiver in her flesh. Gripping the trident in both hands, she braced herself and waited. The watching harlots tittered at her plight.

The wolf had lost the wariness that such beasts often showed when in the wild. It stalked her like a hungry dog. She matched it step for step. Then the wolf growled in its throat and lunged to bring her down. Zoe knocked it sideways, but it scrabbled up and came at her again.

She skittered back and jabbed it in the shoulder. The grey beast snarled and bared its fangs. The hatred in its eyes was almost human. Zoe felt more sweat drip down her body. Her skin was steaming faintly in the cold.

The wolf was bleeding where she’d struck it. Blots of crimson soaked into the snow. It tried to dart beneath her guard. She fought it off again. The yellow eyes glared furiously; she met its gaze and screamed. Then thrust the prongs aggressively. The wolf went flinching back.

"Good," said Plutus from his seat. "Bring on another one!"

His concubines were crowding forward, eager to see more. Their furs hung open carelessly, revealing naked bodies underneath. Plutus reached out absently to fondle one girl’s breast. No-one bothered to look round as Boudicca was led towards the box.

The British girl was muffled in her heavy cloak again. The folds were drawn over her amber hair. To somebody like Plutus, every slave looked much the same; but the foxy mane might stir his memories.

"The master is distracted," sniffed the woman at her side. "I’ll show you to him when the game is over."

Boudicca just nodded meekly: noting the three swordsmen on the steps. Then she looked into the bowl. A second wolf had loped out through the gate. Zoe eased away from it, her trident still extended. The pair of beasts began to circle her.

The woman next to Boudicca looked on disdainfully. Her fine-boned face was handsome but severe. She was older than the other girls, and had a haughty bearing. No doubt she kept the concubines in line.

She’d sized the Briton up as if she were a piece of livestock, squeezing her tits and looking at her teeth. Boudicca had waited with the woollen cloak held open. She’d kept the folds draped over her right arm.

Down below, the hungry wolves were closing in on Zoe. The Greek girl felt her hackles start to rise. They watched her as they might have watched an isolated foal, becoming slowly weaker in the cold. She reared up with the trident raised, then plunged the points into the snowy earth. Gripping the shaft, she pivoted around it and kicked one of the wolves beneath the jaw.

The beast rolled over on its back. She jerked the trident free. The second wolf sprang forward and she raised the ugly prongs in front of it. The pouncing beast impaled itself and gave a frenzied howl. Zoe lunged out of her crouch and drove the trident deep into its chest.

The wolf collapsed and slavered blood. The other one was scuffling back upright. Zoe dragged the trident clear as it leaped towards her throat. She thrust the shaft against its mouth, and the fanged jaws closed around it. The impetus of the attack sent Zoe tumbling back into the snow.

The wolf landed on top of her. She felt it claw her breast. The hind paws scrabbled at her thighs as it tried to drag the trident from her grasp. Zoe glowered furiously, then gave the shaft a wrench. Still gripping it, the beast’s head twisted sideways. She rolled and flipped the creature off her, reaching for the dagger in her loincloth. As it fought to right itself, she hacked the iron blade into its heart.

Plutus rose excitedly and shrugged his harlots off. "Outstanding!" he called out. "Let’s see some more!" Zoe was crouched beside the wolf and spattered with its blood. She raised her eyes and glared towards the box.

The lanista stared in bafflement at her ferocious face. Belatedly he realised who she was. The only girl who’d ever dared to look at him like that. He gestured to the nearest swordsman. "Kill her! Do it now!"

The rangy bodyguard reacted quickly. He swung across the parapet and dropped with catlike grace onto the snow. He drew his gladius with a rasp, and Zoe picked her bloody trident up. The iron gate creaked open and the swordsman from the yard came striding through.

Zoe looked from one face to the other. Ferocious though the beasts had been, they couldn’t match the guile of human wolves. The pair of former legionaries began to stalk towards her. She risked a glance towards the box. The concubines were watching greedily.

Boudicca was staring as intently as the rest. Zoe flashed a look at her. Oh, get stuck in, you bitch! Shuddering with cold, she crabbed across the white arena. The bodyguards moved in to left and right.

"Only a coward fights with women!" shouted someone hoarsely from the gateway.

Zoe looked around and felt a spasm of foreboding. Galba was shuffling blindly forwards, peering past the swordsmen as they turned. He had a gladius in his grip, and Zoe recognised it as her own. Plutus’s men exchanged sardonic glances. Levelling his Celtic sword, the thickset bodyguard bore down on him.

"This time, you old fool, I’ll take the head right off your shoulders." He swung the long sword at the veteran. Galba heard the swish of air and ducked beneath the blade. His own sword drove through his opponent’s belly. The action was as swift and smooth as any sighted swordsman could have managed. His victim gave a gasp of shock, then groaned as Galba ripped the weapon upwards.

"When you fight a blind man," said the veteran, "don’t talk."

The other guard swung round in shock. He turned again as Zoe rushed at him. He swiped his gladius across and Zoe halted, probing. She glimpsed a movement in the seats above.

Boudicca stepped forward, as if seeking a clear view. She threw the heavy cloak back off her shoulders. The pallid sunlight glinted on the arm-guard she still wore. She lashed out at the haughty woman, back-handing the bronze across her face. The harlot-mistress grunted and collapsed like a felled tree. The concubines glanced round distractedly.

The Briton’s belt was looped around her shoulders. She reached behind herself to draw the gladius from its sheath. The nearest girl just stared at her, as if all this was part of the theatrics. Boudicca smiled hungrily, and jabbed the polished blade into her flesh.

The girl bent forward with a groan, her bare breasts peeking out. The Briton gave the sword a twist. Her victim tried to scream and choked on blood. The sword came sucking out again and hacked into the next girl’s slender neck. More blood splashed on Boudicca. It spurted, steaming, through the frosty air.

Plutus had been staring at the fight in the arena. The sudden squealing made him look around. He saw the bloody-breasted Briton carving through his girls, and recognised the blaze of her blue eyes.

"I set you free to kill the bitch down there!" he blurted out. The Briton simply bared her teeth at him. She thrust her gladius into another tender breast. Another giggly concubine grimaced. The two guards left amid the tiers were rushing to confront her, but all her thoughts were fixed on Plutus now.

As one of the guards came running past the stairwell, another figure swung into his path. A man with muscles like a horse, his skin as dark as leather, his features as implacable as death. Before the guard could check himself, Malleus swung his hammer. It smashed into the swordsman’s skull and split it with a crunch.

The guard in the arena was still circling round Zoe. His attention was divided as the fighting in the tiers grew bloodier. The blind swordsman was stalking him as if he could still see. But the trident was the more immediate threat.

He lunged and tried to breach her guard, but Zoe dodged away. Then launched herself back in again before the bodyguard could right himself. The prongs sank into the man’s chest and sent him reeling backwards. She slammed him up against the wooden wall.

Boudicca kept slashing towards Plutus. The soft bodies that blocked her way were merely obstacles to be removed. She thrust her blade through one girl’s belly; sliced another’s throat. Voluptuous corpses tangled in her wake.

The second swordsman came at her. She whirled to block his blow. Steel sparked in the icy air. The flagstones underfoot were slick with blood. Dancing back, she seized the nearest harlot and dragged the trembling girl in front of her. The guard plunged his blade into the helpless body, and Boudicca shoved the concubine at him. As the swordsman fought to disengage, she followed through and slashed her gladius across his throat.

Zoe had jammed the trident’s prongs into the last guard’s body, so deeply that she’d pinned him to the wall. She stumbled back and raised her eyes. A harlot’s body dangled overhead. Zoe turned to get the man’s dropped gladius. Galba seemed to sense the move.

"Use this instead!" he called.

The ebon-handled gladius came spinning through the air, its blade reflecting glints of winter sun. Zoe waited, watching it, then snatched and caught it cleanly. She clambered up the skewered guard and hauled herself onto the parapet.

Boudicca had almost finished butchering the girls. The last of them went fleeing up the steps. Zoe saw it was the one who’d thrown a bone at Galba. The spoilt harlot wasn’t laughing now. She’d managed to dodge the Briton’s sword, but the burly blacksmith was another matter. She blundered into the big slave and whimpered as his hands locked round her throat.

Malleus strangled her without expression. The squirming girl stuck out her tits and then her swollen tongue. The blacksmith held her till she’d finished wriggling, then eased her body gently to the ground.

Zoe had already turned on Plutus. The plump lanista glowered desperately. He’d clawed free of his slaughtered whores with Boudicca behind him, and found the Greek girl standing in his way. He pulled a dagger from his belt and brandished it at her. "Lay off me, girl," he said. "I’ll give you gold!"

"I’d rather you gave Galba back his sight," said Zoe grimly. "Or let Malleus hear the world again."

Despite the cold, she felt her body glowing, the lifeblood pumping hotly from her heart. She took a step towards him, and glimpsed movement from the corner of her eye. There were lean grey shapes emerging from the tunnel down below. The other starving wolves had been turned loose.

They didn’t take the carrion that was strewn across the snow. Their instincts sensed the chance of fresher meat. Zoe felt the hunger there. Their gaze distracted her. Plutus took the chance to drive his dagger at her breast. She reared away and hacked her blade at him. Crying out, he slumped across the barrier, and clung on as the wolves moved up below.

"Go, join your own kind," said Zoe coldly. She slashed her sword across his clutching hands. Plutus howled in horror, and the grey beasts answered him. Then he dropped away from her, and the wolves pounced as his body hit the snow.

Panting, Zoe stared down at the carnage; then straightened up and turned to Boudicca. The British girl smiled crookedly. Her bloodied breasts looked good enough to lick. She used a facedown harlot’s fur to wipe her gladius. The white-gold sunlight glittered on the steel.

Then she flipped the weapon up, and reached behind herself to scabbard it. Zoe let her shoulders slump at last. She went over to Malleus and reached up to squeeze his arm. Then Galba felt his way out of the stairwell.

"The finest fight I never saw," the veteran said dryly. She walked across and hugged him. Galba chuckled. "And you’ve still got perfect tits."

Zoe blushed despite herself, but didn’t break the contact. "So what will happen to the two of you?"

"We’ll find our way," the blind man said. "The Gods have favoured us!" His fingers sifted through her hair. "But what of you, my little alley-cat?"

Zoe shrugged against him. "There’s another debt I’m owed. The lady who first set me on this path." Saying it, she found the prospect strange and almost frightening. As if, once that last debt was paid, her life would lose its spark.

She felt a sudden urge to put her arms round Boudicca: to suck the spilled blood off the Briton’s flesh. But when she looked around again, the tiers were all deserted and the girl had vanished like a winter ghost.