Lupus raised an eyebrow. ‘Fun?’
Mandracus placed a hand on his shoulder and steered Lupus away from the fire. ‘Anyway, Brixus wants to see you. Now.’
They made their way towards the entrance of the large hut. The lintel over the doorway forced Mandracus to duck as he swept the leather curtain to one side and waved Lupus through. The interior was perhaps eighty feet across, and a fire in the centre provided enough illumination to reach the walls and the framework of timbers that supported the roof above. A woman in an old tunic was using a small knife to cut strips of meat from the carcass of a goat, dicing them up before adding them to a steaming cauldron suspended from an iron frame over the fire. Beyond the fire stood a large table with stools arranged round it. At the far end was a large wooden rhair where a man was sitting, scrutinizing the new arrival.
‘Lupus, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, master,’ Lupus replied instinctively. Despite the gloom of the interior, he saw the brief look of irritation that flitted across the man’s face.
‘There are no masters here, Lupus,’ the man said evenly. ‘No masters and no slaves. Understand?’
He nodded.
‘Then come closer. Sit down at the table.’
Lupus crossed the beaten earth and took the nearest stool at the end of the table. Mandracus took the stool opposite. Once they were settled the other man leaned forward and stared at Lupus. ‘I am Brixus, general of the rebel army.’
Brixus’s hair was dark and tightly curled. A jagged line of puckered white scar tissue extended from his brow on to his cheek. His eyes were sunken beneath a thick brow and his skin was creased with age. Yet his shoulders were broad and his arms were well muscled. Lupus could imagine that Brixus would have been a formidable fighter in his time. He radiated an aura of toughness and ruthlessness, cruelty even.
‘There’s no need to be afraid of me.’ Brixus smiled, revealing gaps in his teeth. ‘We’re on the same side. You’re going to join the fight to put an end to slavery. Mandracus and his men have set you free from your master, but you can never be truly free until Rome has been humbled and forced to accept terms. That you must know. We are engaged in a fight to the death. Either we triumph over Rome or we are crushed. Do you understand?’
Lupus nodded slowly as he considered the situation, and then grasped the seemingly impossible challenge faced by Brixus and his followers. He felt his pulse quicken as he framed his response, not daring to antagonize the two men.
‘Do you really think you can defeat Rome?’
‘Why not?’ Brixus shrugged his heavy shoulders. ‘We came close last time, under Spartacus. But we were divided at the moment of victory. Some wanted to use our advantage to escape from Italia and return home, while others wanted to stay with Spartacus, continue the war and bring Rome to it’s knees. There were bitter arguments before our army split in two. Divided, we were no longer a match for the legions and were defeated one at a time.’ Brixus shook his head sadly at the memory, then eased himself back into his chair before he continued. ‘It won’t happen this time. There will be no division. No debate. I will not permit it. Together, we will overcome Rome and her legions.’
Lupus chewed his lip before he responded. ‘How can you overcome them? You have an army of thousands here. But for every man you have, Rome has ten or more legionaries. You are outnumbered.’
Brixus swept an arm around the hut. ‘Do you think this is all that stands in the way of Rome? This is but the largest of the rebel camps. There are many others, all of them waiting for a sign to rise up and follow me. When that time comes we shall be ready for the legions.’
‘What will the sign be?’ asked Lupus.
Mandracus made to reply but Brixus cleared his throat to warn him off, then called out to the woman stirring the cauldron. ‘Bring us a bowl each, and then leave.’
‘Yes, master,’ she replied and scrabbled for some silver bowls and spoons in a small chest beside the fireplace. She used an iron rod to lift the cauldron off the stand and lower it on to the floor. Ladling a steaming spoon of stew into each bowl, she hurriedly brought them over to set down on the table before ducking out of the tent.
‘I thought there were no slaves here,’ Lupus said warily. ‘What about her?’
Brixus laughed. ‘That woman is the wife of a Roman lanista, young Lupus. Or was, until we raided his school, killed him and his staff and set the gladiators and the household slaves free. By all accounts she treated her slaves like animals. Now she’s being taught a lesson.’ He smiled coldly. ‘It’s good to see the Romans having a taste of their own medicine, eh? Now, I expect you are cold and hungry, boy. So eat.’
Lupus picked up his spoon and filled it before blowing over the steaming mixture. The rich aroma rising from the bowl made him realize how hungry he was and he tucked in eagerly, relishing the warmth and the full flavour. As he ate, his mind worked feverishly. What did he know that would help Brixus?
They ate in silence, until Brixus finished and pushed his bowl away with a satisfied smack of his lips. He patted his fist against his chest and let out a burp, then smiled as he leaned back in his chair and regarded Lupus.
‘Mandracus tells me that you belong - excuse me - belonged to Julius Caesar.’
Lupus hurriedly finished chewing a hunk of meat and swallowed as he lowered his spoon. ‘That’s right. I was his scribe,’ he said proudly.
‘A scribe?’ Brixus raised his eyebrows appreciatively. ‘Then you must be a very clever lad. Clever enough to be taken into Caesar’s confidence, a little. Or perhaps clever enough to over-hear things that maybe you shouldn’t.’
Lupus felt the glow of pride quickly fade to be replaced by anxiety. ‘I-I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘Of course you are. You’re no fool. Besides, I already know that Caesar has been sent by the Senate to find and destroy me and my followers. I have spies in Rome. They attend the public meetings of the Senate and report back regularly. So I know why your former master was making for Ariminum. He means to use the army there to crush us before he turns his attention to the Gauls, no doubt with every intention of enslaving as many of them as he can, and reaping a vast fortune as a result. What I need to know is his plan. You must tell me.’
‘But I don’t know anything about his plans.’ Lupus protested. ‘Caesar keeps that sort of thing to himself. All I do is write down what he tells me.’
‘But you arc there when he holds meetings with his supporters, and his allies.’
‘Sometimes,’ Lupus admitted. ‘When he wants notes to be taken.’
‘And he has never discussed his plans for dealing with us?’
‘Not in front of me.’ Lupus saw the ruthless gleam in the man’s eyes and could not help trembling. ‘I swear I’m telling the truth.’
‘There are ways of finding out if you are telling the truth…’
‘But I am. Why would I lie? You set me free.’
‘Indeed. But there are some slaves who are more comfortable with being the property of others than master of their own destiny. It’s possible that you might share the sentiments of such miserable creatures, young Lupus.’
‘I want to be free. Really.’
Brixus stared at him a moment and then glanced at Mandracus. ‘What do you think?’
‘He says he wants to be free. I believe him. But he’s still getting used to the idea.’ Mandracus paused. ‘Besides, Caesar keeps his thoughts close. We know that about him at least. So the boy might be telling the truth.’
Brixus stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Very well. We shall just have Co order our scouts to keep a close watch on Caesar and his army.’ He paused and folded his fingers together. ‘There is still that other matter.’
Lupus saw Mandracus nod and felt a new wave of anxiety ripple through his guts. What other matter could there be? Then he remembered the earlier comment by Brixus, the one that had caused the rebel leader to send the lanista’s wife out of the hut.
‘You mentioned a sign. You said there would be a sign that would unite the rebel bands and cause them to rise up against Rome.’
‘That’s right.’ Brixus smiled thinly. ‘Clever boy. If we are to stand any chance against Rome we will need a figurehead. Someone to inspire the hearts of every slave in Italia. Someone they would follow to the ends of the earth.’
Lupus swallowed nervously. ‘You?’
Brixus shook his head. ‘No. Not a lame old gladiator like me. I might command those who live in this valley, and a handful of the other bands of rebels and brigands hiding in the mountains. But my name and my reputation are not enough on their own. We need a more famous name. More than a name, we need a legend. Someone like Achilles, or Heracles, who would inspire people.’
‘I see.’ Lupus pursed his lips. ‘You mean Spartacus?’
Brixus nodded.
‘Then it’s a shame he was killed.’
‘More than a shame, Lupus. It was a tragedy. If you had known the man, then you would understand. He was a great fighter, it’s true. But he was more than that. Far more than that. He was a friend to all who met him. He understood their suffering, their desires, and he shared their hatred of slavery.’
‘You met him?’ Lupus edged forward. ‘You knew Spartacus?’
Brixus smiled and nodded towards the other man. ‘We both did. We fought at his side. We were part of the small band of companions who acted as his bodyguard from the early days of the rebellion. We stayed with him almost to the end.’
‘You were at the final battle?’
‘I was there, but I had been wounded and could not fight. I watched from the baggage train. That’s where I was captured. Mandracus had been sent to scout for provisions and missed the battle. When he heard that we had been beaten he took his men into the mountains to hide, and found this valley.’
‘I remained in charge until Brixus arrived,’ Mandracus added. ‘Brixus had been my leader in the old days and I was happy for him to take command again. Together we have been building a new army of runaway slaves, arming and training them so we could renew the rebellion when the time was right. The time has come, even though Caesar has forced it on us sooner than we would like. That is why we need to find the figurehead we were talking about. He would be the sign. The one who would cause the slaves of Italia to flock to his standard.’
Brixus and Mandracus exchanged a brief glance before Brixus continued. ‘The son of Spartacus.’
Though Lupus had heard the rumours across Rome, he didn’t think anyone was foolish enough to raise a rebellion on such a notion. But he was careful not to show his true feelings in front of the two men.
‘Then where is he?’ Lupus asked. ‘Who is he?’ He was still confused about his own role in this discussion.
‘Before I tell you, Lupus, there are a few details you must know so that you believe me when I tell you his name. I met the boy at a gladiator school near Capua, less than two years ago. He thought himself the son of a retired Roman army officer and the slave woman that the officer had bought, freed and married. Except this woman had been the wife of Spartacus and she was carrying his child in her womb when she was taken by the officer. After his birth she branded the child with the mark of Spartacus, a secret mark that only Spartacus and those closest to him carried. A mark like this.’
Brixus stood up and pulled the cloak and tunic from his arm to reveal the muscle of his shoulder. There at the top of his shoulder blade was a scar, a brand in the shape of a wolf’s head pierced by a gladiator’s sword. Brixus let him see it for a moment, then shrugged the cloak back over his skin and sat down.
‘Mandracus has the same mark, and the heating iron that made it was kept by Spartacus’s wife — the same one she used on her child.’
Lupus winced as he imagined the mother branding her own baby. ‘Why would she do such a thing?’
Brixus pursed his lips. ‘My guess is she loved Spartacus, and all that he stood for, and intended that his son would continue his work one day. The brand served to remind her of this, and would prove his identity to others who had followed Spartacus.’
Lupus frowned. He suddenly realized that he had encountered the brand before, recently. ‘I know that mark! I’ve seen it myself.’
‘If reports are to be believed, then I imagine that you have.’ Brixus smiled. ‘And now that I have explained about the boy who bears the mark, you will know who he is.’
Lupus felt a little dizzy as the realization hit home like a hammer blow. He let out a gasp and whispered, ‘Marcus..
‘Yes. Marcus. I know that he is with Caesar. We must find him, and bring him here to fulfil his destiny. Once we have Marcus, there will be a rebellion like none the world has ever seen. Roman blood will flow like a river and slaves will be free.’
There was a sudden waft of cold air as the leather curtain was brushed aside by a tall figure entering the hut. In the wavering glow of the flames they could see the man’s chest was heaving and his boots, leggings and cloak were spattered with mud. He strode across the hut and bowed his head in greeting to Brixus.
‘What is it, Commius?’ Brixus asked. ‘You weren’t supposed to return from your raids until the end of the month.’
‘I know, but I have news of Caesar and his army.’
Mandracus leaned forward with an excited expression. ‘Out with it!’
Commius nodded and drew a deep, calming breath before he continued. ‘We had burned a villa near Mutina and were moving on when we saw a large column of soldiers approaching along the road from Ariminum. We followed them to the town and that night captured a prisoner outside the gates, who we took back to our camp. It didn’t take long to get the truth out of him. Caesar has left most of his men in winter quarters. He has taken barely ten thousand men to hunt us down.’
‘Ten thousand.’ Mandracus sucked in a breath through his teeth. ‘That’s still too many for us to take on head-to-head.’
‘Wait,’ Commius intervened. ‘He has split his force in half. Caesar and barely five thousand are at Mutina. They are marching into the mountains even now, searching for us.’
‘Five thousand?’ Brixus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘By the Gods, what a chance he has presented to us! His arrogance is typical of his kind. He considers us a rabble, fit meat for a small force of his prized legionaries. Well, we shall punish his mistake, Mandracus. It is time to put our own plan into action. Let Caesar march into our trap. Within a few days we shall have Marcus leading us into battle, and Caesar will be crushed and taken prisoner. Or better still, dead.’