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invented the story to win support for his cause. But there would be plenty of others who believed it, making Marcus’s secret that much harder to keep. Caesar had already seen the brand on Marcus’s shoulder but had not been able to place it. There might come a time when Caesar made the link between the brand and the rumour and realized who Marcus was. If that happened, then he would be put to death.
    Marcus trembled at the thought. Not just out of fear for himself but also for his mother. Without him, what hope did she have? If Caesar were to find her after discovering Marcus’s identity, then surely she would be killed too in the name of revenge?
    There was a further matter that disturbed him. He had no wish to take part in any campaign against rebel slaves. If anything, he would rather fight alongside Brixus, against those who made people into their property. It was a doomed cause. Even if Brixus were to unite the bands of runaways and brig-ands, what hope would they have against the might of Rome? Caesar was desperate to crush them as quickly as possible. Even though he said he would only need five thousand men, the equivalent of one legion, there were three more legions he could use as reinforcements. The slaves’ only hope would lie in finding an inspirational leader who combined the qualities of a great warrior, a wise general and a formidable personality. In short, a man like Spartacus. With such a man to lead them tens of thousands of slaves would escape to swell the ranks of the rebellion, and at last Rome might meet her match. But Marcus was still a boy. If Brixus had plans for him to follow in his father’s footsteps, then he would surely disappoint.
    Marcus felt a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach. He felt trapped. He was marching to battle at the side of Caesar, to fight slaves whose fate he had once shared. And all the while he would live in fear of Caesar discovering his secret. If Brixus was captured and brought before the victorious Roman general, he’d be sure to recognize Marcus. Would he then betray him, either openly, or under torture?
    The more he thought about it, the more anxious Marcus became. Once he had completed his packing, he extinguished the oil lamp and lay down on his bedroll to get some sleep. On the other side of the room Lupus lay on his back, snoring lightly. Marcus folded his arms behind his head and stared up into the darkness. Despite everything that had happened to him since being torn from his home and family, he knew that his greatest challenge lay ahead.

5
    The small party of horsemen left Rome by the Flaminian gate at first light. Caesar wore a plain brown cloak as he rode at their head, not wanting to attract attention. He had written a brief note to the Senate, announcing that he had set off to destroy the rebels. By the time it was read out, the riders would be many miles from Rome and it would be too late for his political enemies to summon him to explain his plans. Cato and his allies would have been sure to use every trick in the book to delay Caesar. It surprised Marcus how often politicians put the advantage of their faction above the interests of Rome as a whole.
    He cast a glance at Caesar riding at the front of the column. He was even more ambitious than the rest, keen to crush the new slave rebellion quickly so that he could proceed to win glory for himself in Gaul. Despite his misgivings about his former master, Marcus knew that Caesar always rewarded those who served him well. Marcus’s victory in the fight against Ferax outside the Senate House had added to Caesar’s reputation, enabling him to pass new laws improving the lives of ordinary Romans and removing some of the bitter tensions in Rome that could lead to a new civil war. Marcus had every intention to remind Caesar of his promise to help free Marcus’s mother from slavery in return, and that meant staying at his side.
    Marcus was riding with Lupus at the rear of the column. Having been raised