Gladiator: Vengeance by Simon Scarrow

decided. She had seen something, had a vision of some kind. She had known what he was, the son of the leader of the great slave rebellion. If that much was true, there must also be some truth in her verse.
    ‘And now we’re poorer by five denarii, thanks to Marcus,’ Festus continued. He reached down and patted his purse. ‘We’ve got less than a hundred left. If we continue to put on our fights we can make it last a few more months. But if we haven’t found your mother in that time, then we’ll have to return to Rome.’
    ‘No,’ Marcus responded firmly. ‘I will not leave Greece until I have found her. I swear it on my life.’
    Festus eased himself down on to his haunches so that his face was level with Marcus. He smiled sadly.
    ‘Marcus, I will do all I can to help you find her. But you should also prepare yourself for the worst. We may never findher. She may not even be alive. If that’s true then you need to be ready to deal with it.’
    ‘She’s alive!’
    ‘That’s what we must believe, for now. But it is wise to prepare yourself if she is not. You will need to make a life of your own.’
    ‘Then I will deal with that, when I have to. But for now I believe she is alive, and waiting for me to find her. And I will.’
    Festus stared at him then stood up again. ‘All right. We’ll do all that we can to save her. First we must find Decimus and that estate of his. Let’s concentrate on that. We’ll reach Athens in a few more days and find some answers there. Now, it’s been an exciting evening. Let’s get to sleep.’
    He turned to the bedroll he had made from their spare clothes and his cloak, easing himself down. Lupus and Marcus took off their boots and belts to lie down on each side of the bed, hearing it creak under the burden of their combined weight. Marcus turned his back to Lupus and stared at the wall.
    ‘Shall I put out the lamp?’ Lupus asked.
    ‘No,’ Marcus cut in before Festus could respond. After the unnerving experience in the temple he could not bear the thought of darkness again. At least not that night. ‘Leave it burning.’
    ‘As you wish.’ Lupus turned away and began to breathe easily. Soon a telltale throaty click indicated that the scribe was asleep. Marcus rolled gently on to his back and crossed his arms behind his head. There would be little sleep for him tonight. The words of the Oracle went round and round his mind.
    At the end of his journey shall he be
    Bathed in blood and grief and hate;
    A terrible price to be paid for such a fate
…
     
    What did it mean. Whose blood? Why the grief and hate? What was the terrible price he must pay? A sense of foreboding crept over him. Would his single-minded hunt for his mother lead them into danger? Would he be responsible for the death of either, or both, of his companions? Or was his own life the price that must be paid? Or, far worse, would it be his mother’s life?
    He heard Festus stir and clear his throat softly.
    ‘Marcus, you should try to sleep.’
    ‘I can’t.’
    ‘That prophecy has really got to you, hasn’t it?’
    Marcus did not reply immediately. ‘Are you surprised?’
    ‘I’m surprised, no – disappointed, that you have let it botheryou so much. All that rubbish about blood, fire and your father. I’m sure Titus was a good soldier, but from what you’ve told me, he doesn’t sound like a man of destiny.’
    ‘No. I suppose he doesn’t. Not Titus.’ Marcus felt a shiver of concern. He should have called Titus father, and not referred to him by name. Praying that Festus had not picked up on it, he raised his head and risked a glimpse at the bodyguard. Festus lay on his side, propped on an elbow to stare straight at him.
    ‘Marcus, you and I have served Caesar together long enough for us to trust each other. With our lives, but also with the truth.’
    Marcus felt the familiar tingle of anxiety at the nape of his neck.
    ‘Is there a secret you are keeping from me? Maybe there was something in