Like every other large town, Capua held its own ludi, or games, affording Quintus the opportunity to see a bear fight once before. It had not been a pretty sight. Terrified by the alien environment and baying crowds, the beast had had little chance against two trained hunters armed with spears. He had vivid memories, though, of the tremendous power in its strong jaws and slashing claws. Facing a bear in its own territory, alone, would be an entirely different prospect to the one-sided spectacle he’d witnessed in Capua. Quintus’ stomach clenched into a knot, but his pace did not slacken. Fabricius, like all Roman fathers, held the power of life and death over his son, and he had chosen the task. Quintus could not let down his mother either. It was his duty to succeed. By sunset, I’ll be a man, he thought proudly. Quintus couldn’t help imagining, however, that he might end his days bleeding to death on the forest floor.

They climbed steadily, leaving the deciduous woods behind. Now they were surrounded by pines, junipers and cypress trees. The air grew cooler and Quintus began to worry. He’d seen piles of dung, and treetrunks with distinctive claw marks scratched into the bark, in this area before. Today, he saw nothing that wasn’t weeks, even months, old. He kept going, praying to Diana, the goddess of the hunt, for a sign, but his request was in vain. Not a single bird called; no deer broke from cover. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he stopped, forcing everyone else to do the same. Acutely aware of his father at his back, Agesandros staring, and the Gauls giving each other knowing looks, Quintus racked his brains. He knew this ground like the back of his hand. Where was the best place to find a bear on such a warm day?

Quintus glanced at his father, who simply stared back at him. He would get no help.