At length, as the stars pricked out in the cold heavens above, Mandracus emerged from the hut and looked around for a moment before nodding to one of the guards by the nearest fire.
‘It’s dark enough. Start the fire.’ He glanced briefly at Lupus, then went back inside.
The guard immediately took out a tinderbox from the bag hanging on his shoulder and knelt down by the brushwood piled in a rough cone. Dried moss, straw and twigs filled a small gap at the base of the fire. As he huddled over the tinderbox, Lupus could hear the clatter of flints as tiny sparks fell on to the charred linen inside the box. A faint glow illuminated the man’s face as he blew softly, coaxing the tiny flame so that it spread to the other flakes of linen. Then he added some pinches of dry moss and added the contents of the box to the kindling at the base of the fire. It soon caught and spread quickly with a crackle to accompany the hungry orange tongues of the flames. One by one, other fires were lit, dotting the gloom of the valley with rosy glows that illuminated the small figures huddled round for warmth.
‘Can I go over there?’ Lupus nodded to the fire where a handful of guards stood, spears braced against their shoulders as they held their hands out towards the glow.
The guard cast a longing look towards the fire. ‘My orders were to keep you here until I heard otherwise … But I don’t suppose it can do any harm. Come on. But don’t try anything. I’ll be watching you, lad.’
‘Try anything?’ Lupus chuckled bitterly. ‘And where would I run? There’s only one way out of the valley, and that’s heavily guarded.’
The guard stared at him. ‘All the same. No funny stuff. All right?’
Lupus nodded, and the man gestured towards the fire with his spear. They crossed the compound and joined the other guards. One of them produced a wineskin and passed it round. The man responsible for Lupus took a swallow, then lowered the wineskin with a satisfied sigh.
‘Ah! That warms the heart. Here, boy. Have some.’
He held the flask out to Lupus. For a moment the boy hesitated, then he reached out and took the wineskin with a nod of thanks. Taking out the stopper, he sniffed the contents and could not help wrinkling his nose at the sharp, acidic odour. The men chuckled at his reaction and Lupus forced himself to control his expression. Steeling himself, he put the nozzle in his mouth and raised the skin up as he tilted his head back. For a moment there was nothing and then a jet of the wine sloshed into his mouth, sharp and burning on his tongue. He lowered the wineskin and spluttered, to the accompaniment of laughter from the guards round the fire.
‘Rough stuff, eh?’ said the guard. ‘Even for those of us who aren’t used to the wines of the richest households in Rome.’ lie gestured towards Lupus’s plain but well-made cloak. ‘It’s Mir you ain’t ever had to work in the fields. You’re a house slave. No doubt raised on the fine scraps from the master’s table. Never done a real day’s work in your life, I suppose?’
Lupus flushed angrily but dared not reply.
‘Thought so.’ The guard nodded. ‘Well, now you’re no better than the rest of us. We’re all the same here, lad. And you’ll fight alongside the rest of us when the time comes.’
Lupus swallowed anxiously. ‘If I refuse?’
‘Best not to.’ The guard drew a finger across his throat. ‘You’re either with us, or you’re one of the enemy. So which is it?’
Lupus felt a shaft of terror pierce his heart. He saw the other men looking at him closely, many with scarred faces, weathered by years of toil or fighting.
‘Well?’ The man spoke again. ‘Are you with us?’
Lupus hesitated, and was about to reply when a figure emerged from the darkness and joined those by the fire.
‘What’s this? Are you lot teasing our new recruit?’ Mandracus chuckled as he stood beside Lupus and smiled at him. ‘Ignore ‘em, lad. They just like their bit of fun.’
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.’