Gladiator: Son of Spartacus by Simon Scarrow Read Free Book Online

master, Marcus resigned himself to the discomfort and misery of the journey. The road continued through the trees and, as the slope increased, the route began to zigzag up the hill into the grey mist that shrouded the view of the surrounding landscape.
    As dusk encroached on the dismally lit world, the horsemen finally reached the gates of a small town. Caesar presented his senator’s ring to the cloaked sentries and they were ushered through the gate and into the street beyond. There were only a handful of travellers’ inns in the town and only one of those large enough to take the entire party and stable their horses. Night had fallen before the needs of the mounts had been seen to and then Marcus, Lupus and the others joined Caesar and Festus inside where they sat at a bench close to the fireplace sipping heated wine. They had already changed into dry clothes, and their riding cloaks, tunics and boots were drying by the fire.
    As the drenched figures huddled close to the flames, the landlord of the inn came rushing out from a narrow doorway behind the counter.
    ‘Ah, gentlemen, you must be chilled to the bone! Get those clothes off and sit you down. My wife and girls will see that they are dried. We’ve more racks in the kitchen. Just hand ’em to me and once you’re dry and changed we’ll bring you some nice hot stew.’
    Marcus and the others gratefully peeled off their wet over-clothes and heaped them on the counter before rummaging through their saddlebags for dry garments. The cold had left Marcus with numbed hands and feet and he now rubbed his palms together in front of the fire until feeling returned to his fingers. Lupus simply stood with a vacant expression as he held his hands out towards the flames.
    ‘Don’t put your hands too close while you can’t feel them, said Marcus, ‘or they’ll start burning before you realize it.
    ‘I just want to be warm again,’ the other boy muttered. ‘By the Gods, I wish I was back in Rome.’
    ‘Well, you’re not. And you’d better get used to it. Caesar's on campaign now and where he goes the rest of us will follow.’
    ‘Then let’s hope that he deals with these rebels quickly and we get this over with.’
    ‘Over with?’ Marcus could not help smiling. ‘This is just the beginning. When — if— he defeats the rebels, then Caesar aims to make a name for himself in Gaul. There’ll be years of campaigning before he’s done.’
    Lupus lowered his hands and turned towards Marcus with a bleak expression. ‘Years?’
    The innkeeper returned and gathered up the bundle of wet clothes, taking them back into the kitchen. A squat, heavily built woman with a dark complexion soon emerged, carrying the wooden handle of a heavy cauldron. At once a rich aroma filled the room and Marcus felt his stomach rumbling as his appetite awoke. Behind the woman came a young girl, no more than eight, Marcus guessed, struggling under a large tray piled with wooden bowls and spoons.
    The woman set the cauldron down on the counter and her daughter placed the bowls beside it. The first two bowls were filled with a ladle and the girl carried them across to Caesar and Festus. Having grown used to the deference with which Caesar was approached in Rome, Marcus could not help a soft gasp as Festus received the first bowl, and then his master before the girl turned back to serve the others. Festus glanced anxiously at Caesar, but the great man just chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. He leaned forward and sniffed the stew.
    ‘And what have we got here, innkeeper?'
    The owner of the inn ducked out of the kitchen. ‘Sir?’
    ‘What’s in the stew?’
    ‘Goat. No shortage of that around the town!’ the man said cheerfully. ‘I do hope it’s to your liking.’
    Caesar tested a spoonful and nodded. ‘Indeed it is. Just what a man needs after a day on the road, eh, lads?’
    The men voiced their agreement, and as soon as they were served moved to a table on the far side of the