5

The small party of horsemen left Rome by the Flaminian gate at first light. Caesar wore a plain brown cloak as he rode at their head, not wanting to attract attention. He had written a brief note to the Senate, announcing that he had set off to destroy the rebels. By the time it was read out, the riders would be many miles from Rome and it would be too late for his political enemies to summon him to explain his plans. Cato and his allies would have been sure to use every trick in the book to delay Caesar. It surprised Marcus how often politicians put the advantage of their faction above the interests of Rome as a whole.

He cast a glance at Caesar riding at the front of the column. He was even more ambitious than the rest, keen to crush the new slave rebellion quickly so that he could proceed to win glory for himself in Gaul. Despite his misgivings about his former master, Marcus knew that Caesar always rewarded those who served him well. Marcus’s victory in the fight against Ferax outside the Senate House had added to Caesar’s reputation, enabling him to pass new laws improving the lives of ordinary Romans and removing some of the bitter tensions in Rome that could lead to a new civil war. Marcus had every intention to remind Caesar of his promise to help free Marcus’s mother from slavery in return, and that meant staying at his side.

Marcus was riding with Lupus at the rear of the column. Having been raised on a farm, he had learned from an early age how to mount and ride a pony. By contrast Lupus was a poor horseman. He clung to his reins and leaned forward against his saddle horns as if he might fall from his mount at any moment.

‘Sit up straight,’ Marcus advised. ‘The saddle horns will hold you in place. If we have to break into a trot or gallop, then clamp down on your thighs and heels and hold on.’

Lupus shot him a cross look. 'Easy for you to say.’

‘Surely you’ve ridden before?’

‘Oh, yes. I’ve had a few goes on the cook’s mule, and some of the ponies on the master’s country estate last year. But that’s all.’

‘I see.’ Marcus sucked in a breath to cover up his disappointment. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.’

‘Thanks for the encouragement,’ Lupus replied tersely, as he hunched forward again and gripped the reins for dear life.

The road soon left Rome behind and as they crested the brow of a hill Marcus turned in his saddle to look back. Grey clouds were approaching from the west and already the great city was in shadow. The city comprised an ugly sprawl of buildings covering the seven hills, above which hung a filthy pall of woodsmoke. Marcus was glad to be out in the fresh air of the country with its clean scents. He would not miss Rome. Aside from the discomfort of its gloomy alleys, stench and the constant noise, there was the danger of street gangs and the bloodthirsty fickleness of the mob, as well as the endless plots and conspiracies of politicians. With a click of his tongue, he urged his horse forward and caught up with the rear of the column as it continued east, towards the snowcapped slopes of the Apennines.