Marcus leaned forward and stared at his master intently as a peculiar anxiety to know more gnawed at his heart. ‘You said you were at both battles, sir?’

‘That’s right. After the first one, Crassus sent me to find Pompeius and request that he block the survivors’ escape route. He did that right at least.’

Marcus felt his pulse quicken. He had rarely heard Titus, the retired centurion who had raised him, talk of the rebellion. The brutality and hardship of the campaign had scarred Titus for the rest of his life. Now Marcus had a chance to discover more about his true father.

‘What was it like, sir? What happened?’ Marcus swallowed nervously. ‘Did you ever see Spartacus himself?’

‘So many questions.’ Caesar smiled faintly. ‘Well, there’s nothing else to do in this place but talk.’

Lupus discreetly reached for his satchel and pulled out a waxed notebook. Caesar shook his head. 'No need for that. I am not anxious to record my part in the slave revolt for posterity. The sooner the whole episode is forgotten the better.’ Lupus nodded and returned his writing tools to his satchel, while Caesar closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts, then began. ‘It was a war like no other I’ve ever seen, or heard of. Neither side took many prisoners and the slaves showed no mercy to any slave traders or overseers who fell into their hands. Of course, most of this I got second hand from the men who had been fighting Spartacus and his rebels during the earlier years of the revolt. By the time I joined Crassus he had closed in on them, trying to force Spartacus to turn and give battle. He was like a wounded animal: never more dangerous than when they are trapped and know they must fight or die. So Spartacus formed his army up on a ridge across our line of march.’

Caesar stared at the table in front of him and Marcus willed him to go on. Caesar cleared his throat and continued, his voice a little lower. ‘Even though we outnumbered them, I could see that our soldiers were nervous at the prospect of a fight. I remember that I did not understand their reaction. They were trained soldiers and well equipped. Many of them were veterans of previous campaigns. When I looked at the rebels I could see that many of them only carried farming tools and wore little or no armour. There were women there too, and even old men and boys. There were several thousand in the centre of the line who were well equipped and were formed up in a disciplined line. Behind them a body of mounted men surrounded Spartacus and his standard.’

‘You saw him, master?’ asked Lupus, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

‘Yes. He rode a white horse and wore black armour and a helmet with a dark crest. Quite a striking figure.’

Marcus felt a surge of pride at the description of his father, accompanied by the regret of never having had a chance to know him.