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

race ahead of the other men, and in any case the ground beneath the light layer of snow was frozen hard and presented an additional hazard to any horse and rider who slipped and fell. They continued up the slope, and at every corner Marcus looked down to see that the pursuers were remorselessly edging closer. They urged their mounts on, heedless of the risk, and he saw one or two of them tumble into the snow. One went over the edge and tumbled a good thirty feet before landing hard against a rock. The rider lay dazed and the horse floundered in a drift as it struggled to regain its feet. Then they were lost from sight again.
    As the road approached the pass it began to level out and Caesar called to his men. ‘We’re almost there! As soon as we gain the pass, we’ll stop and dismount!’
    Marcus was about to spur his beast on when he looked back and saw Lupus struggling to stay in the saddle, his face white and drawn with fear as he clung to the reins. Before Marcui could drop back to help him, Festus drew alongside the scribe and urged the boy on. He looked up and caught Marcus’s eyes, nodding as if to reassure him that he would take care of Lupus. Marcus leaned forward and kicked his heels in to catch up with Caesar. Ahead of them crags rose up on either side of the pass, dusted with snow and ice.
    They were barely a hundred feet from the narrow opening to the pass when a tall figure stepped out from a rock and strode confidently into the middle of the road. He stood facing the riders, hands on hips.
    ‘What’s this?’ Caesar hissed as he slowed down and threw up his hand to stop his men ploughing into the back of him. The column slowed to a walk while Marcus’s gaze flickered from the man to the rocks on either side and back again. He felt the familiar tingle of apprehension in the hairs at the back of his neck.
    ‘That’s close enough!’ the man called out when they were no more than twenty feet away.
    Caesar reined in and sat tall and imperious in his saddle. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded.
    Now they were close to the man, Marcus could see that he was a giant, well over six feet tall. He had thick blond hair that merged with a shaggy beard and blue eyes that twinkled beneath his heavy brows. A wolfskin cloak lay across his broad shoulders and the snout and ears of a preserved head were just visible on the crown of his head. Beneath the cloak he wore a striped tunic and the breeches favoured by the Celts. The head of an axe protruded from the belt that held his breeches up. The man’s lips parted in a smile as he sauntered a few steps closer to the riders. Marcus noted that there was no sign of fear in his expression.
    ‘The meaning of this should be plain enough.’ The man spoke in a rich booming voice. ‘This pass belongs to me and like any owner I want to know the business of those who cross my land.’
    ‘I see.’ Caesar nodded. ‘And might I ask the name of the man who lays claim to a road which, until now, I understood to be the property of Rome?’
    ‘Please forgive my country manners,’ the man replied in a mocking tone. ‘I am Mandracus, lord of the lands either side of this pass. That is why I must exact a toll from those who wish to cross my territory. And who are you, sir? I can tell from the cut of your clothes and the haughty accent that you are a well-bred Roman.’
    With a soft pounding of hoofs, Festus rode up from the rear of the column and reined in beside his master.
    ‘Who is this peasant? Stand aside, before we cut you down.’
    ‘Enough, Festus!’ Caesar cut in. He turned back to Mandracus. ‘I am an official crossing the mountains on the business of the Senate. It is a crime to impede my progress.’ Caesar smiled coldly. ‘However, being mindful of your country manners, I shall not have you flogged, if you stand aside and let us pass.’
    Mandracus pursed his Ups and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that.’
    As the men spoke, Marcus