Gladiator: Vengeance by Simon Scarrow Page B

Now, he was still trying to puzzle through the meaning of the brief verse the woman had spoken.
    ‘Marcus. If this is a message from the Gods, then it seems you are chosen to take up the cause of Spartacus. You will lead the slaves and crush Rome.’
    Marcus rounded on his friend. ‘Shut your mouth! Do you want everyone to hear you? You know my secret. Only you and a handful of others. That is how it must stay. Understand?’ He grasped Lupus’s tunic and yanked him closer so their faces were almost touching. ‘You will not breathe a word of this to anyone.’
    ‘Wh-whatever you say.’ Lupus tried to shrink back but could not escape Marcus’s grip. Marcus glared at him. In the dim light coming through the open door from the fire in the inn’s dirty courtyard, he could see the fear in his friend’s eyes. Ashamed, he released Lupus and took a step back.
    ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
    Lupus patted his rumpled tunic back into place. ‘That’s all right, you don’t have to apologize. I understand the danger you are in. But what about Festus?’
    ‘What about him?’
    ‘He heard what I heard.’
    ‘But he doesn’t know the truth about my father.’
    ‘But what about that mark on your shoulder? The brand of Spartacus. He’s seen that.’
    ‘Yes,’ Marcus nodded. ‘But he does not know what it means.’
    ‘No,’ Lupus conceded. ‘But he might be suspicious after what the Oracle said.’
    Marcus pursed his lips. Lupus was right. Festus would try and work out what lay behind her words. If he guessed the truth then Marcus had no idea how he would react. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and shot an urgent look at Lupus.
    ‘Not a word. I can’t afford Festus to know the truth.’
    Lupus nodded as the bodyguard appeared in the door frame, cupping a hand round the small flame at the end of a taper. He ignored the boys and held the flame to the wick of the oil lamp until it was alight. Then he puffed his cheeks and blew on the taper to extinguish it before closing the door.
    ‘There. That’s better.’
    Marcus and Lupus sat on the bed while Festus remained standing, arms crossed as he regarded Marcus. He was silent for a moment and Marcus could feel his heart beating anxiously as Festus cleared his throat.
    ‘That was … unexpected. I knew the Greeks had a passionfor drama and theatrical effects, but that was a better show than any you’ll see in Rome.’
    Marcus cocked an eyebrow. ‘Show?’
    ‘Of course. The deep voice was probably someone speaking down a large voice trumpet. The doors were opened and closed by servants in the shadows on either side and I liked the touch of the woman in the darkness. All very theatrical, don’t you think?’
    Marcus and Lupus glanced at each other before Marcus nodded. ‘I suppose.’
    ‘Oh, come on, lads! You weren’t taken in by that nonsense. Surely?’
    Marcus felt embarrassed. Had he been fooled? Or was there more to it than Festus saw?
    ‘They’ve been conning visitors to the temple for hundreds of years. Putting on a bit of a show and giving out mumbo-jumbo verses. The trick is to make it all sufficiently vague that the mark can read just about anything into the prophecy they are presented with. I’ve seen enough fortune-tellers on the streets of Rome to know how it works. They prey on the gullible. The big temple, the stage effects and so on may be more impressive here in Delphi, but it’s still the same old game.’
    Marcus felt himself flush with shame. What Festus said madesense, and he had seen the same fortune-tellers and knew that his companion spoke the truth. Yet he could not explain how the woman in the temple had known so much about him. And he had not sensed any acting in the dread that gripped her at the end. She had tried to free herself, pulling her hands back powerfully. But for the strength gained from his gladiator training, Marcus could not have restrained her. And the terror in her voice had been real. No, he