Lupus raised an eyebrow. ‘Fun?’

Mandracus placed a hand on his shoulder and steered Lupus away from the fire. ‘Anyway, Brixus wants to see you. Now.’

They made their way towards the entrance of the large hut. The lintel over the doorway forced Mandracus to duck as he swept the leather curtain to one side and waved Lupus through. The interior was perhaps eighty feet across, and a fire in the centre provided enough illumination to reach the walls and the framework of timbers that supported the roof above. A woman in an old tunic was using a small knife to cut strips of meat from the carcass of a goat, dicing them up before adding them to a steaming cauldron suspended from an iron frame over the fire. Beyond the fire stood a large table with stools arranged round it. At the far end was a large wooden rhair where a man was sitting, scrutinizing the new arrival.

‘Lupus, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, master,’ Lupus replied instinctively. Despite the gloom of the interior, he saw the brief look of irritation that flitted across the man’s face.

‘There are no masters here, Lupus,’ the man said evenly. ‘No masters and no slaves. Understand?’

He nodded.

‘Then come closer. Sit down at the table.’

Lupus crossed the beaten earth and took the nearest stool at the end of the table. Mandracus took the stool opposite. Once they were settled the other man leaned forward and stared at Lupus. ‘I am Brixus, general of the rebel army.’

Brixus’s hair was dark and tightly curled. A jagged line of puckered white scar tissue extended from his brow on to his cheek. His eyes were sunken beneath a thick brow and his skin was creased with age. Yet his shoulders were broad and his arms were well muscled. Lupus could imagine that Brixus would have been a formidable fighter in his time. He radiated an aura of toughness and ruthlessness, cruelty even.

‘There’s no need to be afraid of me.’ Brixus smiled, revealing gaps in his teeth. ‘We’re on the same side. You’re going to join the fight to put an end to slavery. Mandracus and his men have set you free from your master, but you can never be truly free until Rome has been humbled and forced to accept terms. That you must know. We are engaged in a fight to the death. Either we triumph over Rome or we are crushed. Do you understand?’

Lupus nodded slowly as he considered the situation, and then grasped the seemingly impossible challenge faced by Brixus and his followers. He felt his pulse quicken as he framed his response, not daring to antagonize the two men.

‘Do you really think you can defeat Rome?’