‘He’s not coping with this,’ Festus said quietly.
Marcus stretched his shoulders. ‘Are you surprised? You think I’m coping?’
Festus turned to look at him searchingly. ‘You’re doing well enough, Marcus. You seem calm, under the circumstances.’
‘You think?’ Marcus lowered his head into his hands and his voice caught as he spoke in a low tone. ‘I’ve failed. My mother will spend the rest of her days suffering. Starved, beaten and never knowing what happened to me.’ He swallowed hard, feeling the urge to surrender to his grief, to slip back into his childhood and be looked after. He craved a return to that life. But it was gone. Even if, by some miracle, he escaped from the death sentence, his experiences had changed him. Marcus had discovered too much about the darkness of this world to ever be free of that knowledge. It was as if a part of him had already died and he grieved for that small boy he had once been. ‘I’ve failed …’
Festus shook his head. ‘Marcus, it’s not as simple as that. If you had failed then you would have been defeated long before now. You would never have survived the gladiator school and that Celt, Ferax. Nor any of the other perils that you have faced, and triumphed over. No, you have held true to your course and your mother would be proud of you. Your father too, if he were alive.’ Festus smiled fondly. ‘If I’d had a son like you I would have been just as proud.’
‘What good is that to me now? It’s over, Festus.’
‘Not until you draw your last breath. That’s how it is for gladiators, of all people. And you, Marcus, are a gladiator through and through. Perhaps the finest I have ever known. If — when — you grow into a man, then you will become a legend. I am certain of it.’
Marcus turned to look at him, a faint spark of hope and determination rekindling in his heart. He forced himself to smile at his companion, and friend. ‘Thank you.’
‘Be strong, Marcus. Not just for yourself, but for Lupus too, and me.’
Marcus drew a deep, calming breath and nodded. ‘I will.’
The jailer returned for the tray and water jug late at dusk. He was not alone. Two soldiers came with him and stood, hands resting on the handles of their swords, as the door opened and the jailer pointed to Marcus.
‘You, pick up the tray and bring it here.’
Marcus did as he was told then crossed the cell and held the tray out. The jailer took it then stepped back into the passage. ‘Outside.’
Marcus hesitated and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Why?’
‘Do as you’re told and don’t cheek me. Not unless you want a hiding.’
‘Wait!’ Festus called out, rising to his feet. ‘What do you want with him?’
‘None of your business!’ the jailer snapped as he reached for Marcus’s shoulder and grabbed him firmly before wrenching him through the door. At once he slammed the door shut and slid the bolt back just before Festus reached the grille and clasped his fingers round the iron bars.
‘What’s going on?’
The jailer snatched the small club from his belt and held it up. ‘Back off! Or I’ll break your fingers.’
Festus released his grip and retreated. The two soldiers took Marcus firmly by the arms and led him down the passage towards the steps.
‘Where are you taking me?’ he demanded.
‘You’ll see,’ one of the soldiers replied. ‘Someone wants a word with you.’
They climbed the steps into the yard behind the palace and steered Marcus towards a stable where a figure stood in the shadowed interior. In the light from a small torch burning in a bracket Marcus recognized the man waiting for them.
‘Decimus.’
It was months since he had last seen the man, in the secret valley of the Apennines where they’d been held by the slave rebels led by Brixus. Decimus had been dishevelled and afraid then. Now his features were comfortably filled out, and he wore a neatly styled wig with oiled ringlets. The very picture of a rich and powerful man, his tunic was cut from expensive cloth and his boots were fine, soft calf’s leather. He smiled with satisfaction as Marcus stood before him, grasped on each side by the two soldiers.
‘I wondered if we would meet again, son of Titus.’
Now it seemed there was nothing to lose, Marcus was tempted to tell Decimus the truth about his father. But he realized that could worsen the situation for his mother, if she still lived. And there would be wider repercussions if it became known that Spartacus had fathered a son. It would send a shiver through the hearts of Roman slave owners, who would treat their slaves even more harshly.
‘It was always my intention to find you,’ Marcus answered coolly. ‘And to kill you once I had freed my mother.’
‘Well now, that’s not going to happen,’ Decimus chuckled. ‘In two days you will be dead. You and your friends. Torn to pieces. I’ll be there to enjoy the moment when my revenge against your father is complete. It’s been a long road since that day when he gave me this.’ Decimus patted his leg, wounded by Titus, which had led to Decimus being discharged from the legion where they had both served. ‘In a way, I should be grateful to your father. If I had stayed in the army I might have been dead by now. As it was, it opened up a new life for me. I made my fortune and found a way into the ranks of the most powerful men in Rome. Be that as it may, I still wanted revenge. And now I have it. Titus is dead, you are about to join him, and your mother will be left to eke out what is left of her life.’
‘Then she’s alive,’ said Marcus, a flush of relief surging through his heart.
‘Of course. I wouldn’t put an end to her suffering too soon. Right now, she languishes in chains on my estate in Laconia. I saw her when I was there a month ago.’ He pretended to look concerned. ‘She’s not doing well, alas. Thin, dirty, a mere shadow of the person you once knew. You would be hard pressed to recognize her. A pity, she was a fine-looking woman once, and I dare say, a loving mother, eh?’
Marcus tried to take a step towards Decimus as a savage growl rumbled in his throat, but the soldiers tightened their grip. Decimus regarded him with an amused expression and then continued. ‘I have to say, I am impressed by your persistence, young man. You’ve been something of a thorn in my side for a while now. Interfering with my schemes in Rome then coming here to hunt me down. I had no idea you were so close. Luckily, more than a few men on the governor’s staff are in my pay. It was simple enough to arrange your arrest once I connected you to the murder in Stratos. That was your work, I assume?’
Marcus shook his head. ‘We did not kill Pindarus. We are not murderers, like you.’
‘Murderer?’ Decimus made a hurt expression. ‘I am a simple businessman, Marcus. I make money, lots of money. If that means removing someone who stands in my way, then that’s too bad. It’s not personal, you understand. Just sound business practice. But it’s different for you and your family. Revenge is a very personal thing indeed. And I cannot tell you how much pleasure it gives me to see you suffer.’
‘You won’t get away with this. Caesar knows we are here. If he finds out what you have done then you’re finished.’
‘But he won’t find out. As far as he will know you travelled to Greece and disappeared. And what the beasts leave will be thrown into a mass grave. Your belongings will be disposed of, starting with this.’
Decimus reached into his tunic and pulled out a scrolled document. He unrolled it so Marcus could see the signature and seal of Caesar. ‘My friend, Euraeus, took the precaution of removing this from your room after you were arrested. Now it’s time to destroy the evidence that gives your story any credibility.’
Decimus rolled the document up and moved towards the torch. As he held the scroll to the flames Marcus could not help gasping. ‘No …’