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an uneasy alliance, as Marcus knew only too well after having foiled a plot against his master by Crassus. A plot that had involved Decimus and his henchman, Thermon, the man who had murdered Titus and kidnapped Marcus and his mother. There would be a reckoning one day, Marcus vowed. The blood of Thermon and Decimus would run from his blade.
    He thrust thoughts of revenge aside and bowed his head to Caesar.
    ‘With your leave, master?’
    ‘Yes, you may go. Goodnight, Marcus.’

    Lupus had already heard about the journey by the time Marcus reached the small cell that they shared in the slave quarters of the house. Even though Marcus had been given his freedom he had no means of paying his own way and was obliged to remain in Caesar’s house, sharing the same food and conditions of those who were still slaves. It suited him for now. After all, the only thing that mattered to him was waiting for Caesar’s contacts in Greece to discover where his mother was. So he was content to stay close to Caesar and hear the news as soon as it reached Rome. Or Ariminum, as would now be the case.
    ‘Ariminum.’ Lupus smiled. He was a small thin boy, nearly four years older than Marcus, but could have passed for the same age. His dark hair was cropped short and he spoke with the usual quiet humility of those who had been born into slavery. ‘I can’t wait to see the place. It’s supposed to be a beautiful city, close to the beach. Where the wealthy Romans go to relax.’
    ‘I doubt it will be quite so pleasant in the middle of winter,’ Marcus replied.
    ‘Pleasant enough. In any case, a welcome change from Rome.'
    Marcus nodded. The capital might be the heart of the empire, a vast city with grand buildings, public baths and every entertainment imaginable, but it was also crowded, with stinking narrow streets, and when summer came the air was stifling. The fresh air of the coast would indeed be welcome. But this would be no holiday.
    ‘I doubt we’ll have much time to take in the pleasures of Ariminum,’ said Marcus. ‘Caesar wants to complete his task as swiftly as possible. I imagine that we’ll be there just long enough for him to muster his troops and then we’ll be marching into the mountains. You’d better get used to the idea of living out in the snow, rain and wind.’
    Lupus shuddered at the thought.
    ‘And it won’t just be the elements to contend with,’ Marcus added. ‘There will be fighting. Caesar thinks that he’ll crush the rebels easily. I’m not so sure. They may lack training, but they’ll be fighting for their lives, for their freedom. That will make them very dangerous.’
    Lupus stared at him anxiously. ‘I don’t like the sound of it. Why does Caesar need me to come along? What good would I be in a fight? I wouldn’t know how to use a sword. Probably be more of a danger to our side than theirs.’
    ‘It’s not your sword Caesar needs, but your pen. He will want a record kept of his exploits. Something he can use to build his reputation later on.’
    ‘Oh, good,’ Lupus responded with a relieved expression. ‘I suppose I’d better start packing.’
    While his companion rummaged through his small chest of stationery Marcus began his own preparations. In addition to his sword, throwing knives and dagger, he took his gladiator cuirass down from its peg on the wall and carefully wrapped it in an old blanket before placing it in his kitbag. He also took a bronze buckler and the reinforced skullcap that Festus had made for him the previous year, leather bracers and a padded tunic to wear under his armour. Once all his fighting kit was packed he moved on to his clothing.
    As he worked, his mind was distracted. So far, only his mother and Brixus knew the truth about his father’s identity. And now it seemed that Brixus was spreading the word that Spartacus had a son and that the son would take up his father s cause. No doubt some Romans would refuse to believe it, thinking that Brixus had simply