‘So what will you do with us?’ Marcus asked anxiously.
Decimus looked down through the bars. ‘I could have you killed, young man. Quietly strangled and have your bodies thrown off a cliff into the sea. I could do that.’ He paused to let his words have their effect. Marcus recoiled in terror.
‘However, as I live with the memory of the wrong your father did to me, so you will live with the memory of how you were made to pay for his deed.’ Decimus stroked his pointed chin. ‘I have a farming estate in the Peloponnese. It is in a small valley surrounded by hills. It is hot in summer and bitterly cold in winter, and I spend as little time there as possible. However, the soil is good for barley and the slaves of the estate are worked hard to add to my fortune. That’s where I will send you, to live out your days working, under the whip, as a slave in my fields. There you will die, forgotten and unmissed. General Pompeius will never, ever, learn of your fate, or that of Titus.’
He took a deep breath and smiled faintly. ‘A fitting revenge, don’t you think?’
Marcus felt a brief moment of dread, but then he was seized by rage and a desire to clamp his hands around the throat of the tax collector. With a shrill, animal cry, he lunged through the bars, clawing at the man’s tunic.
‘Marcus!’ his mother shouted. ‘It won’t help us!’
She pulled him back and held his arms tightly as Decimus chuckled. ‘Quite a temper on him. But there is courage too. He is a soldier’s son and no mistake.’
Livia’s eyes blazed. ‘He is… my son.’
Decimus looked puzzled by her response but before he could say anything, Livia looked at him pleadingly.
‘Whatever happened between you and Titus happened years ago. He is dead and you have had your revenge. There is no need to inflict this on me and the boy.’
‘Ah, if only that were possible. You must understand this from my perspective, my dear. If I let you both go now, with Titus dead, it would only be a matter of time before the boy sought to avenge his father. Isn’t that right?’ He smiled at Marcus.
Marcus glared back and nodded slowly. ‘One day I will find you, and I will kill you.’
His mother’s shoulders sank in despair. ‘Decimus, he is only ten. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Show him mercy and he will remember mercy.’
‘If I show him mercy, I will merely be signing my own death warrant. He must disappear like his father, as must you.’
Livia thought quickly. ‘Let him go. Send me to your estate. As long as I am your hostage, he will do you no harm. Isn’t that right, Marcus?’
Marcus looked into her eyes and understood that she was begging him to agree. But there was never a moment’s doubt in his sense of determination to do his duty and see that justice was done to the memory of his father. Of course he was afraid, scared out of his wits by the terrible fate Decimus had prepared for them, but there was a cold hard fury – stronger than his fear, stronger even than his grief or his concern for his mother. He shook his head.
‘I’m sorry, mother. But this man is right. While I live I will think only of paying him back for what he has done.’
‘You see?’ Decimus raised his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘What is a man to do? I’m sorry, but there it is. You will both go to the estate, and there you will work until you die. Farewell.’ He nodded solemnly and then, before he turned away, he stared a moment into Marcus’s hate-filled eyes. ‘You would have grown into a fine man, Marcus. It is a shame that it should end this way. I respect you and would be proud to have a boy like you for a son. Such a pity…’
Then he walked away, at the same slow pace, with a slight rolling gait. Livia watched until he had disappeared out of the entrance to the yard before turning on her son.
‘You little fool!’ She grabbed his arm and held him in a tight grip, making Marcus wince. ‘Are you trying to get yourself killed? You’re just like your father, all fine principles and no common sense. I told him he could never win. I told him…’ She stopped abruptly and clenched her teeth.
‘Mother, you’re hurting me,’ Marcus said, glancing at his arm.
Her gaze dropped and then she let go of him and covered her face with her hands. ‘I’m sorry, my darling. So sorry. Forgive me.’ She started to cry.
‘Mother, don’t,’ Marcus said. He felt as if his heart was being torn apart. He touched her cheek gently. ‘I love you. I’m sorry.’
She lowered her hands and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Oh, Marcus, my little boy. What is to become of us?’
At first light the driver of the wagon came to collect them, holding a club and watching them warily as he ordered them to climb back into the cage. As soon as the cage door was closed and locked, the driver clambered on to his bench, picked up his whip and cracked it over the heads of his mules. The wagon lurched forward and then rumbled out of the slave auctioneer’s yard. Marcus shuddered as the wagon passed the stage where he had stood the day before. For an instant he relived the terror he had felt at the thought of being parted from his mother. The market square was empty, apart from the handful of beggars sleeping in the arches of the portico.
As they passed through the town gates and down a broad street lined with small houses, Marcus felt his mother nudge him.
‘We must escape,’ she whispered with a nervous glance towards the driver. ‘We have to find a way to get out of here.’
‘How can we?’
His mother smiled faintly. ‘There is a weak spot.’ She nodded towards the driver. Marcus looked up at the broad shoulders of the man sitting on the bench, slightly hunched forward as he held the reins and occasionally clicked his tongue to encourage the mules to keep up their pace.
‘Him?’ Marcus raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘He’s too big for us to manage. We’re not strong enough.’
‘There is a way, Marcus, but you must do exactly as I say.’
8
The wagon soon passed out of the sprawling slum that surrounded the town and emerged into open countryside. Stratos stood on the bank of a river that flowed out towards the Ionian Sea. On either side of the lazily flowing current the land was covered with fields of wheat as far as the slopes of the forested hills that rose steeply from the plain. Soon the wagon was labouring up the narrow track that had been cut into the slope of a hill. The tall pines on either side created pleasant shade and the warm air was filled with the scent of the trees. The slope was thickly carpeted with soft brown pine needles, broken up by clusters of ferns and the odd outcrop of rock. There was no one else in sight and the wagon had not passed anyone along the route so far. Marcus and his mother were far from relaxed, however.
‘This spot will do,’ Livia muttered. ‘Marcus, I’m going to pretend to be ill. I’ll do what I can to make it look convincing, but you must do your part. You have to convince him that you think I’m dying. Can you do that?’
Marcus nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Then let’s hope your best is good enough.’ She smiled encouragingly. ‘He’ll stop and come to have a closer look. You have to persuade him to open the cage. I watched him do it when we arrived in Stratos. I don’t think his eyes are good. He leaned forward to see as he fitted the key to the lock. That’s the moment we must strike. When I say “now”, we kick the door of the cage back into his face, as hard as we can. If we take him by surprise, then we can get out of here before he recovers.’
‘Then what, mother?’
‘Then we run, like the wind.’
‘No, I meant where do we go?’
She frowned briefly. ‘We’ll think that through later. Best to find General Pompeius, I should think. If anyone can see that we have justice, and have Decimus punished, then it has to be Pompeius. He has great power and, besides, he owes Titus a favour.’
‘What favour?’ asked Marcus.
‘Titus saved the General’s life in the final battle against Spartacus. Pompeius has to honour that debt.’ Livia eased herself away from the side of the cage and lowered herself into the soiled straw lining the bottom. ‘Ready?’