A strong wind blew up from the bottom of the deep rocky chasm in front of us. Alexander's richly embroidered cloak snapped in the wind and small clouds of dust swirled around his feet.

He was standing on the edge of a rock cliff. It plunged dramatically away from his feet. Alexander was staring across the yawning void in front of us. On the other side of the huge abyss was a sheer rock face, topped by the massive stone walls of the Aornos fortress.

Even though he had his back to us, I could sense his mood. This last obstacle to subduing these tough mountain peoples was frustrating him. He was anxious to push on eastwards but he needed to secure his supply lines first. We were getting further and further from safe bases as we pushed into these inhospitable mountains.

His mood wasn't helped by his irritation with the Persians in his army. The army was changing. The battle-hardened Greeks who had fought and conquered the world for Alexander were spread far and wide now. Some sent home as a reward, some garrisoning key cities, but most sleeping in the soil of a hundred battlefields in strange foreign lands.

Persians, Medes, Scythians, Bactrians and a hundred other races from the empire of the Great King Darius had replaced those fierce Greek fighters. The new men weren't worth spit and Alexander knew it.

The Persians had no stomach for a fight, especially one that looked like it could be hard.

A few moments ago, Alexander had dismissed the Persian satraps with an angry wave of his hand. They had told him that it was impossible to breach the abyss ahead and attack Aornos.

The finely robed satraps cowered a short distance behind Alexander, sensing, as I did, his silent brooding anger.

"Slioch," he called, without removing his gaze from the fortress and its defences. As always his pronunciation of my name was harsh, guttural. He'd never managed the softer subtlety of my Celtic tongue. Anahita had, and when she said my name, it sounded like liquid honey.

I walked to Alexander's side and was met by an upward blast from the gusting wind in the abyss. There was a hint of warmth in the wind. Spring was coming late to these high hills.

I, too, looked across the void at the towering rock cliffs and high stone walls. Alexander did not look at me, his gaze locked on his prize ahead.

"Can you take it?" Alexander asked. There was a hint of despair in his voice.

I hesitated. I looked at the chasm – it was a steep climb down it and then a good five hundred paces across it before the rock face climbed abruptly straight up into the sky. I looked at the massive bulk of the stone walls and towers on the top of the towering rock face. The fortress walls were bristling with defenders.

I couldn't see a weakness for us to attack but Alexander wanted it taken, so we'd just have to do it.

Before I had the chance to speak, Alexander kicked a stone into the void. We heard it clatter down the steep rocky slope to the bottom of the deep gorge. It seemed to take an eternity before it hit the bottom.

"Your hesitation says it all, Slioch." Alexander said morosely.

He held out his hands towards Aornos. "So this is where it ends. Our journey is over."

I sniffed. "You want Aornos taken, my lord, I'll take it for you."

Alexander's turned his head and looked at me. His darting eyes scanned my face for the answer that he craved. He found no answer and turned back to stare at the daunting prospect of the Aornos fortress.

"And how are you going to do that?" he asked at last. There was a mixture of hope and sarcasm in his question.

I made no answer. Alexander knew I had no solution to his problem.

"What the fuck is that barbarian saying?" Hephaistion hurled the insult at me as he sauntered over to stand at Alexander's side.

The Greeks called us barbarians because they reckoned our language sounded like the bleating of a sheep. I spoke Greek with a heavy northerner's accent and Hephaistion delighted in ridiculing me about it. Still, I reckoned my mother tongue was more beautiful and lyrical than his Greek, which sounded like you'd got a frog stuck in your throat.

Alexander made no reply to Hephaistion's jibe, his eyes locked on his prize opposite.

Hephaistion and I also turned and stared across the deep, wide chasm at the foreboding fortress opposite us.

I was racking my brains for an answer to Alexander's challenge. My head was beginning to hurt with the effort.

A majestic eagle glided on the strengthening wind across the void, scanning the desolate rocky ravines for any kind of movement that might indicate life and therefore food. I could see its huge dark wings as it drifted silently on the wind. My heart soared. Eagles were sacred to us Britons. They were said to be the souls of dead warriors.

It was a good omen.

Then suddenly it hit me.

I quickly turned to Alexander.

"Hang on a minute, lads! I've got a great idea!" I exclaimed.

Hephaistion gave me a withering glance. Alexander fixed me with a penetrating stare. He had a way of looking right through you sometimes.

"I was thinking back to Tyre. Diades of Thessaly built a causeway through the ocean to get at that fortress. I know a Bactrian arrow took him to Hades at the Khawak Pass, but there's no reason we can't build another one across the yonder gorge to get at this fortress." I turned and look back at Aornos.

Alexander's eyes narrowed. I remained staring across the chasm. I could see the causeway across it. We could do it.

Alexander slowly turned and looked across the void. He nodded and then clapped me on the shoulder.

Alexander grunted and said, "Aristotle always had you down as a dimwit, Slioch!"

"Yeah, and he was a fucking genius who knew a thing or two," muttered Hephaistion darkly.

Alexander shouted for the Persian satraps.

He put his hand on my arm and I turned to face him. Alexander looked deep at me. His eyes were blazing with a fierce intensity that I hadn't seen for many months. He could see a way to overcome an obstacle that had been frustrating him. His dark mood had gone. He was all hope and optimism now.

"This was a great idea of mine." The pressure of his grip on my arm intensified as he made the statement.

I nodded. "Just another of your many inspirational ideas, my lord," I replied, trying to sound as sincere as I could.

Alexander pursed his lips and nodded in return. He released my arm, turned on his heel and barked orders at his satraps.

"Great," I thought to myself, "Now we've got a way to get across there, all I've got to do is find Firouz. How the fuck am I going to do that?"

My question made me think about Anahita and I smiled. She was always chiding and teasing me for being too honourable. I'd given my word to Pirooz and that was my bond. I think she secretly found it attractive. Just as well really, Poeninus hadn't blessed me with too many advantage and I'd got fuck all other qualities to keep a woman of her quality interested in me.

Alexander wouldn't have stuck to a promise to help Pirooz – he'd have just used him for what he could get and then tossed him away. That was the difference between us – he was ruthless in his pursuit of his aims. He didn't care who he used or betrayed along the way – I'd always known that, but his treatment of Parmenion and the murder of Black Cleitus was showing his character to all. That and his drinking were starting to drive a wedge between him and those of us who had followed him when he first set out across the blue waters of the Hellespont. The shadows of plots, mistrust and intrigues swirled around him these days.

I noticed that I was the only one still standing on the rocky ledge. Alexander and his court had moved off to the troops to start organising the building of the causeway. I took one last look across the yawning chasm at the vast fortress.

Time to pay Pirooz and his pretty daughter a visit. Perhaps they'd have some ideas on how I could get into the impregnable fortress before Alexander built the impossible causeway?

I looked up at the huge defensive walls of Aornos, towering above us as we slowly climbed the steep rocky path to its gatehouse. It looked almost impregnable from this approach. I scanned the sky, searching for the crow that seemed to be following me all morning. Suddenly I saw him, high above, circling on the chill Spring winds.

It was a bad omen. Trouble was coming.

I wasn't looking where I was going and stubbed my toe on a rock. I cursed under my breath. The day wasn't getting any better.

We rounded the final bend of the track-way and came to a halt. At the head of our small party were a couple of pageboys carrying olive branches aloft. I'd never understood why the Greeks used them as a symbol of peace, but the Aornians seem to know what they meant.

There was a small party of Aornians in front of the massive timbers of the locked gatehouse doors. I immediately registered the huge warrior standing to the right of the Aornians. Covered in armour, he was an imposing brute. Probably not got many decent death moves, just relied on his height and strength, I guessed.

It was funny, but after what seemed all my life fighting battles for Alexander, I had a warrior's instinct for trouble. If you didn't, you soon went to meet the ancestors in the Underworld.

The big man felt like trouble, but I didn't know why.

The Persian and Aornian nobles up the front of the column started to exchange pleasantries.

I didn't pay much attention. Without wanting to be obvious, I studied the big warrior. He was a man mountain. Big thighs bulged under his short tunic. His arms were massive, but I noticed right arm was bigger than his left. That would be his sword arm, I guessed.

When the chill wind dropped, the Spring sunshine felt warm on my back. I drew in a deep breath, closed my eyes and relaxed. In my mind's eye, I pictured Anahita's smiling face, bright eyes bursting with intense energy. I grinned with pleasure and imagined holding her tight in my arms.

I don't know how long I was lost with Anahita in my own little world, but an abrupt noise broke my reverie. I opened my eyes and scanned the scene ahead through narrowed eyes. My hand was already on my sword hilt.

I relaxed. It was just the nobles and satraps of the peace parley saying their goodbyes. I had no idea why we'd even bothered asking them if they wanted to surrender. They weren't going to.

The Persians turned around to begin the descent of the path, so I began to turn with them.

"Hey! Greek!"

It was the big warrior. He'd remained motionless throughout the parley but was now shouting and motioning to our party.

Everyone stopped.

"When you come next, send some bigger warriors!"

All the Aornian party laughed.

I was the only warrior in our party. I wasn't a big man – no-one in our tribe was. The insult was clearly aimed at me.

I paused and looked up into the sky. It was a wonderful shade of blue. Light white clouds drifted across it, driven by the chill wind.

I couldn't see that damn crow anywhere.

I started to move away towards the downward path.

"Oi! Greek!" yelled the big brute at the top of his voice. "I'm talking to you!"

I guessed what was going on. He was parading in front of the audience behind him in the gatehouse. Probably his just his mates. Or maybe he had a woman watching that he wanted to impress.

He was starting to annoy me.

I stopped and turned to face him. He was probably fifteen paces away.

I spat into the damp earth at my feet. It was one of my father's two spits. It was the one that was a long, slow spit that seemed to come from deep in his throat. This spit he used when he didn't believe what he was being told, but didn't want you to know.

I turned quickly and walked briskly towards the man mountain.

"I'm not fucking Greek," I said calmly. "I'm from the Carvetii tribe in the cold wet northern lands of the Britons."

I paused and then with a hint of menace in my voice, I added, "Our children slaughter fat fuckers like you for practice."

I nodded towards the towering fortress behind him. "And when me and my men come swarming over the walls of Aornos, we're going to kick your fucking heads in."

I saw him tense.

I took two steps forward and threw my small shield down onto the ground. It made a dull this as it hit the hard cobbles of the gatehouse track.

His brow furrowed. He was unsure what to do. I'd called his bluff, which meant I was confident of taking him.

I could see he was thinking. I saw a small bead of sweat appear on his hairline.

He looked enormous. Muscles bulged everywhere. His face was covered with a bushy beard. Thick bulbous lips grinned at me. He stank.

I guessed he beat his opponents with his height and his sheer strength. Any blow from his massive sword would fell pretty much any man alive.

I needed to capitalise on his hesitation and provoke him into a rash move.

I winked at him.

He looked puzzled and then bellowed like a bull. He dragged his huge sword out of scabbard with his right hand and aimed a scything blow at me.

I could see the panic and confusion in his eyes as I too drew my sword with my right hand but then tossed it to my left hand.

As always, when I was in a fight, time seemed to stand still.

The Ancestors hadn't been kind to me in either height or looks. But they made up for it by making me lightning quick.

I waited and waited until his hissing blade was almost about to cleave me in half. Then I rocked back on my heels and watched the murderous slash of his blade sweep past my face. The big man had put so much effort into delivering his killer blow, that his momentum carried him forward and slightly off balance. His savage blow carried on all the way to the hard, bare earth, until his sword struck the ground with a loud clang.

His right side was unprotected now, and as he tumbled passed me, my blade raked his arm. He screamed in pain, blood gushed from the wound and he dropped his sword.

My sword blade snaked towards his neck.

"Stop!"

It was an urgent, plaintive cry.

I stopped my blade at the big man's neck. I stared into his eyes. I could see his fear. He was standing at the gates of the Underworld. He could see death at the end of my sword.

I wanted him to taste Death before I thrust my sword deep into his bulging neck.

An old man approached as I held my sword to the big warrior's throat. He had a big bushy beard too and stank just a bit less than the big warrior. Water must be short in the fortress. They were rationing it already.

The old man held his hand up.

"Enough, you have proved yourself a great warrior in front of all my people." He sounded weary as he waved his hand towards the gatehouse behind him.

I looked up and for the first time I noticed all the people crowding along the top of the battlements.

"Spare his life and I will reward you with your heart's desire."

I gave him a puzzled look.

The old man shrugged his shoulders. "He's my son," he said with a mixture of disappointment and resignation in his voice.

I pressed the sword point into the big man's neck and drew blood I could send his soul to the Underworld in an instant. Sheer terror was in his eyes.

Then a germ of an idea came into my head.

We started walking down the rocky path away from the gatehouse. It had taken them fucking ages to find Firouz, but here he was, walking away from Aornos with me.

I was feeling good.

I'd won a fight and sprung Firouz from an impregnable fortress!

A shadow drifted slowly across the path in front of us.

I looked up into the sky.

That fucking crow was back.

Trouble was still waiting for me somewhere.