He paused to let his next words have their full impact. ‘There will be a final battle and this time we must make sure that none of them escapes to keep the legend of Spartacus alive. This time we’ll crush the will of every slave that ever thought of rebelling against his master. But let there be no mistake about it, this will be a hard battle. The rebels will be fighting for more than their lives. They will be fighting for the one thing that is truly worth fighting for: freedom. Even though our enemies are slaves, you must treat them with respect. They will fight like nothing you have ever fought so far, and never will again. There are some men in this tent who fought in the last slave revolt and will know what I am talking about.’

Marcus saw a few of the older centurions nod, grim-faced. He hurriedly made some notes on the tablet to catch up with Caesar. At the same time the proconsul’s words had chilled him to the bone. This was to be a war of extermination. It would not do to just kill Brixus and his supporters. Caesar was out to destroy the very dream that kept hope alive in the count-less thousands of slaves who toiled and suffered across the empire. For the first time Marcus fully grasped what his real father had given his life for. He understood the cause, and why it was worth the price that the followers of Spartacus had paid with their blood. The fact that Marcus would be marching alongside the man who was determined to obliterate even the memory of his father made him suddenly sick to the bottom of his stomach and he had to fight back the bile that rose in his throat.

‘Every one of you, and the men you command, will have to march and fight as never before,’ Caesar continued. ‘I want this campaign concluded before spring comes, gentlemen. I will not tolerate anyone who fails to give me every last ounce of effort. Any such man will be dismissed from the army that I will lead into Gaul.’ He stared slowly round the room before his intent expression eased. ‘Any questions?’

Quintus raised his hand and Caesar fixed his dark eyes on the youth.

‘Yes, Quintus?’

‘Sir, you’re planning to take half the army to deal with these runaways. Surely the task could be completed with fewer men?’

‘And fewer officers too, I suppose?’ Caesar smiled faintly, but his eyes remained as cold as before. ‘I’d rather take too many men and not need them, than need them and not take them with me. Besides, you are forgetting something. These rebels are led by Brixus, a former gladiator. There are bound to be other gladiators with him and those men will be training their followers. If they have done a decent job of it, then we shall face some of the toughest fighters in the world.’

‘Gladiators...’ Quintus mumbled. ‘They’re just mindless brutes, sir. All muscle and no brain. No match for a proper soldier.’