When all was ready Caesar gave the order to advance and the long column trudged forward in two sections. The first was commanded by Caesar, the second by Legate Balbus. Cavalry led each of the two forces, followed by the commander and his staff, then their infantry, and the baggage train and its escort came last. Marcus turned in his saddle, hoping to catch sight of Decimus, but it was impossible to make out much detail amid the wagons clustered to the rear of the legionaries.

A small crowd had emerged from Ariminum to line the road along which the army marched. Wives, sweethearts, excited children and some curious idlers stood and watched as the soldiers squelched along the muddy route from the camp towards the road leading north and south. On a warmer day the onlookers might have been cheering but on this cold and miserable f morning they mostly stood and watched, only calling out their farewells as they caught sight of a friend or loved one. A small ^cluster of wealthier spectators stood near the junction where the track joined the road and Marcus picked out Portia, bareheaded, as she watched the cavalry pass by. Her expression lit up as she caught sight of her uncle and waved at him. Marcus saw Caesar acknowledge her with a bow of his head. Quintus was too busy joking with his companions to notice his young wife, and she stared forlornly as he rode past. Her smile only returned as she spotted Marcus and edged to the side of the track.

‘Take care of yourself, Marcus.’

He steered his mount to the side of the track, reining in to look down at her. ‘I will.’

‘Look after my uncle.’

‘Him?’ Marcus smiled. ‘Caesar knows how to look after himself, mistress. Trust me.’

She laughed briefly and then continued in a lower tone. ‘And take care of Quintus if you can …’

Then she turned and paced back to her place among the other officers’ families. Marcus clicked his tongue and flicked his reins, walking his horse quickly to rejoin the rest of the headquarters staff. Ahead, the cavalry of Caesar’s force, some five hundred mounted men, had turned north. The rest of the force followed them, picking up the pace now they could march on a paved surface. As the last of the wagons of Caesar’s column rumbled after them, Balbus and his men turned south.

Marcus glanced back, momentarily impressed by the spectacle of the two neatly ordered columns marching to war. The air was filled with the din of horses’ hoofs, the crunch of nailed boots and the rumble of heavy wagons on the road. Then he recalled the purpose of it — Caesar’s plan to crush the rebels and the dream of Spartacus once and for all. Marcus stared at the back of the proconsul sitting erect in his saddle, looking ahead, his mind no doubt fixed on the quest to win fame and glory, whatever the cost.