‘As we deployed in our usual formation of staggered units I heard a murmur from the rebel lines. At first I could not make it out, then I realized it was his name. Spartacus ... Spartacus ... Spartacus! Rising up until it became a thunderous chant that echoed across the battlefield. Then they charged. Like a wave. I don’t remember hearing any signal. It was as if they shared one thought. One instinct. To kill every Roman that stood before them. I don’t mind telling you that I felt afraid then. It surprised me at the time, but there was no denying they were a terrifying sight as they came at us.

‘They smashed into our leading units, charging straight on to our shields and swords and dying in their hundreds. But they were like wild animals, fighting with their bare fists if they lost their weapons. Even the wounded fought on from the ground where they lay, using hands and teeth. Our first line held them for a while, but not even the best soldiers in the world could withstand such demons for long. The second line moved forward to join the fight. That was when Crassus gave the order that tipped the battle in our favour.’ Caesar’s eyes glinted as he recalled the moment. ‘The rebels had driven a wedge deep into the heart of our battle-line, so Crassus had his last line move out to each side and quickly march round to charge the rebels in the flanks. As soon as the trumpets sounded, our men let out a roar and closed in. The rebels held them for a while, then some panicked and broke away. Then more dispersed and soon they were finished. Our cavalry closed the trap and only a few thousand got away. The rest were annihilated.’

‘And Spartacus?’ Marcus interrupted. ‘What of him?’

‘He and his bodyguard covered the retreat of the survivors until our men were too exhausted to pursue them any further. Crassus realized that if Spartacus escaped he would be bound to stir up a fresh rebellion elsewhere. So he sent me to find Pompeius and, ah, advise him to block Spartacus’s route.’

‘Advise?’ Festus frowned.

‘One does not give orders to Pompeius the Great.’ Caesar smiled. ‘Crassus knew that it was too important a matter to risk offending Pompeius and thereby let the enemy slip away. Anyway, I found Pompeius and gave him the message, and remained with him while his men marched on Spartacus. It was all over very quickly. The rebels were exhausted and many were wounded. Yet they formed up round their leader and fought to the end. We only took a handful of prisoners. None matched the description that had been given to us by his old lanista.’

‘Did you see him again?’ Marcus asked excitedly. ‘Spartacus?’

‘I saw him with his closest lieutenants. They were mounted on the last of their horses. Just before the fight began they dismounted and killed their beasts, to show that they would share the fate of their comrades. When the last of them had fallen, I joined Pompeius and his officers as they picked over the battlefield. We found some black armour and a helmet. I suppose that his followers tore it off him when they saw him cut down. Many of the bodies were too mutilated to be identified.’