‘Is that so?’ Caesar turned to Marcus. ‘Put your stylus down, boy, and come here.’

Marcus did as he was told and stood at the spot indicated by Caesar, directly in front of the junior tribunes. Caesar pointed to him as he addressed the officers. ‘This boy, until recently, was training to be a gladiator. A few months ago he won a bout in front of the Senate. I am sure some of you witnessed it.’

There were surprised murmurs from those who had seen the fight but had paid no attention to the scribe at the side of the tent, and now recognized him again.

This boy is my adviser on gladiators. Even more than that.

‘I have trusted him with my life in the past and would do so again if need be.’

‘Him?’ Quintus laughed. ‘Why, he’s just a runt.’

‘You think so? I’d place money on him long before I’d ever bet on you.’

Marcus saw the blood drain from the tribune’s face as he glared angrily at his commander. ‘I’d thrash this boy in a fight, sir.’

‘Then let’s put it to the test.’ Caesar drew his sword and handed it to Marcus. ‘Draw your blade, Quintus. Let’s see if you are as good with a blade as you think you are. A little fencing bout. Just to first blood.’

Quintus looked astounded. His comrades muttered encouragement and he nodded and stood up, drawing his sword. He took up position ten feet from Marcus and turned to face him with a contemptuous sneer. ‘Like I said, no brain, and it seems no muscle either.’

Marcus said nothing but tested the weight and balance of Caesar’s sword. The proconsul stepped closer to him and muttered softly. ‘I just want you to make an example of him. Go easy. I’m not looking to create a vacancy in the tribunes’ ranks or make a widow of my niece. Understood?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good.’ Caesar stepped back, clear of the short stretch of open ground between Quintus and Marcus. ‘Begin!’

The tribune looked at Marcus and puffed his cheeks. ‘Are you sure about this, sir? I’d hate to damage one of your servants.’

Caesar smiled. ‘Why don’t you just try?’

Quintus raised his sword and took a quick step forward as he let out a loud shout. ‘Ha!’

Marcus barely flinched and stood his ground, staring back intently as he balanced on the balls of his feet, weighing up the tribune. The youth was powerfully built, and could move with speed, but his poise was poor, clumsy even.

Having made his attempt to startle Marcus and failing, Quintus looked towards his cronies and chuckled. ‘There! Too stupid to react.’

The moment the tribune’s eyes glanced aside, Marcus attacked. He lunged forward, arm and blade outstretched. His opponent caught the movement and swung his blade up to parry the blow. Marcus flicked his wrist, letting the weight of his sword drop and swing under the tribune’s weapon. As he continued forward, he ducked low and struck the youth’s wrist with the flat of his blade. Quintus let out a strangled cry as the shock of the impact caused him to lose his grip and the sword fell from his Angers. Marcus followed through with the heavy bronze hilt of the sword, driving it into the tribune’s stomach with all his strength. Quintus let out an explosive gasp and staggered back, struggling for breath. Marcus calmly stepped forward and, raising the tip of his sword, made a tiny cut on his opponent’s cheek.