Gladiator: Son of Spartacus by Simon Scarrow Page A

outside the largest of the tents. The eagle standards of the four legions stood on a podium in front of the entrance and were guarded by eight men with bearskins covering their helmets and shoulders.
    There was something in the atmosphere that excited Marcus. A heady mixture of sights and sounds, combined with knowledge of the power wielded by Rome through its soldiers. These were the men who had carved out a great empire, defeating other empires in turn. The same men who had worn down and finally crushed Spartacus and his rebels, Marcus reminded himself. His excitement cooled.
    At the entrance to the tent Caesar turned. ‘Festus and Marcus, you come with me. The rest, wait here.’
    Caesar’s baton had been spotted by one of the guards at the entrance to the tent and, when they entered, the officers and clerks at the desk on either side immediately stood to attention as the three new arrivals strode through. At the far side of the tent was another flap and a figure hurried in, extending a hand as he smiled. ‘Caesar! Good to see you again.’
    ‘Labienus, my old friend.’ Caesar grasped his forearm and returned his smile.
    ‘I was expecting to receive you in March. I had no idea you were coming sooner, otherwise I’d have prepared a fitting reception for a proconsul.’
    ‘I’ve had enough of ceremonies for a while. Time for me to do some honest soldiering, and leave politics behind. Or at least that’s what I had hoped. Now Cicero has manoeuvred me into a nasty little trap.’ Caesar looked round at the other men in the huge tent. ‘Let’s continue this somewhere private.’
    Once the flaps were closed behind them Labienus indicated some folding wooden chairs beside the large table that dominated one side of the tent. Caesar gestured at his companions. ‘This is Festus, the leader of my personal bodyguard.’
    ‘There won’t be much call for you here.’ said Labienus. ‘There is a unit of the army assigned to protect its general.’
    Caesar nodded. ‘Even so, Festus and his men will stay close to me. After the events of last year in Rome, I have to be careful who I trust.’
    Labienus shrugged. ‘It may seem strange to say, but I think you will find you are safer on campaign than on the streets of Rome these days. And who is the boy?’
    Caesar turned to Marcus and placed his hand on his shoulder. ‘This is Marcus Cornelius Primus, the gladiator. The toast of Rome.’
    There was no denying that it felt good to be singled out by Caesar, one of the three most powerful figures in the entire Roman Empire, but Marcus found that he was embarrassed by the praise. He forced a smile before he glanced down for a moment.
    ‘You?’ Labienus’s eyebrows rose. ‘You are that boy? I had thought you would be bigger. Given your reputation. They say you slew a Celt giant in that fight in the Forum. But you are so ... young.’
    ‘Don’t be deceived by what you see,’ said Caesar. ‘Marcus has the heart of a lion, the speed of a viper and the quick wits of a cat. In time he will make an even greater name for himself. Perhaps the greatest gladiator who ever lived. There is none like him.’ Caesar hesitated. ‘Well, perhaps there was once. But he is dead now. A great pity. I would like to have seen Spartacus fight in Rome. What a spectacle that would have been.’
    ‘We shall never see his like again.’ Labienus agreed. ‘For which I can only offer my thanks to the Gods.’
    Once again Marcus felt the danger of his situation, and the lure of his father’s legacy. If only these Romans knew the truth...
    Labienus continued. ‘I just wish those troublemakers in the mountains realized it and put an end to their rebellion. Anyway, they will be dealt with in due course. What was that you said a moment ago, about Cicero and a trap?’
    ‘That’s why I have arrived earlier than expected. I am required to put down Brixus’s revolt, and eliminate what remains of Spartacus’s followers. The task must be complete