Spartacus: Rebellion (21 page)

‘We’re going to die.’ Arphocras sounded resigned. ‘Even if the Romans lose, we’ll never know about it.’

Zeuxis rubbed the double-ended phallic amulet that hung from a thong around his neck and mouthed a prayer. Several of the others did the same.

They’re really scared.
Somehow, Marcion rallied his courage. ‘Spartacus knows what he’s doing.’

‘Does he?’ Zeuxis sounded even more dubious than ever.

‘He’s never made a mistake yet, has he?’

‘That means nothing. No one’s perfect,’ replied Zeuxis angrily. ‘And what’s his secret plan here? Any fool can see that charging up a slope is tantamount to suicide, yet that’s what we’re about to do.’

‘There are only two legions on the ridge,’ growled Gaius. ‘We outnumber the bastards by six to one.’

‘But we can’t all engage at the same time: their front is too narrow. Besides, the odds aren’t as great as you say. The other consul’s legions won’t be far away,’ snapped Zeuxis. ‘They’ll fall on our rear at the first opportunity.’

Gaius glowered, and Marcion intervened. ‘Spartacus is no fool. Remember how he set the trap for Lentulus? How he had Longinus’ hidden catapults destroyed the night before we marched?’

Zeuxis’ lip curled. ‘I don’t know. This attack seems like a very good way to get a lot of men killed.’

Trumpets blared from some distance to their right, and they craned their necks to see what was going on.

‘It’s Spartacus!’ Marcion pointed at the horseman who had emerged from the ranks some two hundred paces away. He began riding up and down, addressing the troops nearest him.

‘SPAR-TA-CUS!’ The usual chant began.

Marcion was delighted. The closest soldiers also seemed pleased, and the news rippled through the cohort.

‘Bloody typical,’ said Zeuxis. ‘We can’t hear a damn word.’

Marcion glared, but the older man ignored him.

‘How are we supposed to feel encouraged by this? We might as well just pray to the gods. Or talk among ourselves. That’d be as much use as standing here pretending that we have a clue what’s going on.’

Marcion’s anger overflowed. ‘Stop your moaning, will you? Either that, or piss off!’

Zeuxis gave him a startled look.

‘Like it or not, we’re going to fight this cursed battle soon. Some of us might get killed, but at least we’re free men. We’re here of our own choice! I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be here than back on the shitty
latifundium
where I grew up. I was treated like an animal.’

‘Damn right!’ shouted Gaius. ‘There’s no going back.’

‘Well said,’ Arphocras elbowed Marcion. ‘We’re Spartacus’ men, whatever happens.’

The rest of their comrades gave each other sheepish grins while Zeuxis glowered in resentful silence.

Marcion’s attention returned to Spartacus. He drew his sword, and Marcion’s breath caught in his chest. The sica was stabbed repeatedly at the Roman lines, and the soldiers near Spartacus roared in appreciation. ‘This is it. We’re going to attack.’

To his surprise, the command was not given. Instead Spartacus rode along the front of the army, towards them. He came to a halt not twenty paces from where they stood. The soldiers went crazy, cheering and banging their weapons and shields together. Marcion and his comrades joined in. Even Zeuxis.

Spartacus raised his arms for calm. ‘You know that there are only two legions facing us. That the other two are in the area, waiting for their chance to strike at us. Most likely, you’re worried, even a little scared. I’d wager that Lentulus is banking on your fear. The toga-wearing man-humping piece of filth is also relying on his colleague Gellius to arrive and fall upon the rear of our army.’ He smiled at the unhappy murmurs which followed.

Zeuxis glared at Marcion.

Marcion held his breath. This wasn’t all that Spartacus had come to say – was it?

Spartacus watched them, let them stew in their uncertainty for several moments before he spoke again. ‘Our scouts have done us proud. Yesterday they brought me news of Gellius’ position. More than twenty thousand of your comrades are about to march out under Castus and Gannicus and confront him. Rest assured, your backs are safe! We have plenty of time to demolish Lentulus’ spineless rabble.’

The mood changed, as a spring gale clears out the last traces of winter. Men laughed and cheered and thanked the gods.

‘Will you help me to go and do that?’ shouted Spartacus.

The roar that followed proclaimed his soldiers’ enthusiasm in no uncertain terms.

Inevitably, the cry began again. ‘SPAR-TA-CUS!’

The Thracian rode up and down, acknowledging the acclaim.

Marcion gave Zeuxis a not entirely friendly nudge. ‘Happy now?’

‘I’ll follow him up there.’

Marcion grinned. From Zeuxis, that was an endorsement of the highest kind.

Some weeks later . . .

The Apennines, south-central Italy

Carbo got up and adjusted the large rock that served as his backrest. He sat down again with a contented sigh, pulling the blanket around his shoulders and moving his feet closer to the burning logs. The days were still hot, but at night the altitude meant that temperatures fell fast. Thankfully, sitting by a fire was enough to keep a man’s bones warm.

‘I’ll be glad to see Thurii,’ said Navio.

‘It isn’t far now, thank Jupiter,’ said Publipor.

‘I can’t wait for some flat ground. I’m sick of going down one hill only to climb another,’ Arnax piped up.

They all chuckled. The bruises from Spartacus’ beating had faded within days, but it had taken weeks for Arnax to get over the shame of having talked to Castus. He had recently started coming out of his shell.

‘It’s practically your home territory, Publipor, eh? Brundisium isn’t that far from where we will overwinter,’ said Carbo with a wink. After his arrival, the Apulian had joined a century in his cohort. In the time since they had left the Alps behind, he had become a constant companion and friend.

‘You’re not wrong.’ A shadow passed across Publipor’s face.

Carbo took it to be worry. ‘Have you got a woman there you left behind? A family?’

The shadow became sorrow. ‘I did. A wife. Three children.’

Silence fell. Navio busied himself by loading more logs on to the fire. Arnax, who was scouring Carbo’s sword with a piece of wire, found a rust spot to concentrate on above all else. Carbo let his gaze follow a stream of sparks upwards into the brilliant night sky. It wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t discovered this about Publipor before. Few men in the slave army bothered to tell their comrades of their past – himself included. ‘What happened to them?’

Publipor cleared his throat. ‘They were carried off last year. Cholera.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Carbo.

‘That is a hard burden for anyone to bear,’ added Navio with some feeling. ‘War is one thing, but sickness . . .’

‘Aye, well. What can a man do? The gods give, and the gods take away. I should be grateful that I am still here. Still breathing.’

Publipor didn’t look grateful at all, thought Carbo. He’d found it hard thinking that he would never see his own parents again, but at least they were alive. It wasn’t completely mad to think that they might meet again one day. They weren’t that far away: Rome lay perhaps two hundred miles to the north-west. The army had been even closer to it a week or two before. Carbo had considered deserting for a short period, or even asking Spartacus if he could visit his parents, but he had discounted the idea as foolish. He’d made a fool of himself twice over with the Thracian, and he wasn’t about to do it again.

‘We are lucky yet to be alive, and that won’t change in the months to come,’ said Navio darkly. ‘Just because we defeated the consuls at Picenum doesn’t mean that another army won’t come looking for us. It will be a lot bigger than the ones we’ve seen so far too. As my father used to say, make the most of every day that dawns . . .’

‘For it might be your last,’ finished Arnax in a solemn tone.

Navio laughed. ‘You’ve been listening to me carefully, eh?’

Even in the dim light, it was possible to see Arnax blush.

Navio reached over and ruffled his hair. ‘You’re making a good fist of Carbo’s gladius. Take a look at mine when you’re finished, will you?’

‘Of course.’ Delighted, the boy glanced at Publipor. ‘Shall I clean yours as well?’

‘When it needs doing, I’ll do it myself,’ the Apulian snapped. ‘Understand?’

‘Sorry.’ Arnax dropped his eyes.

‘I’m tired,’ Publipor growled. ‘I think I’ll turn in. Good night.’

Carbo and Navio muttered their replies. Arnax watched him go in silence.

‘Don’t worry about it, lad. He wasn’t having a go at you. He’s troubled about his family,’ said Carbo.

‘It takes at least a year before the pain eases in any way,’ pronounced Navio with a sigh.

‘What pain would that be?’

They turned in surprise. ‘Spartacus!’ said Carbo with a grin.

Navio also smiled. ‘Welcome.’

The Thracian inclined his head in greeting and then threw a hard look at Arnax, who looked as if he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

Spartacus sat down by the fire. ‘What pain were you talking about, Navio?’

‘The pain of losing those that one loves.’

‘I see.’
The Rider watch over you, Father. Maron, my brother. Getas and Seuthes, my comrades.
‘We must all have lost people. It’s one of life’s trials. A man must deal with it as best he can.’

‘Wise words,’ said Navio.

They sat in silence for a short time, Carbo and Navio wondering what had brought their leader unannounced to their fire.

‘We’ll reach Thurii in the next month,’ announced Spartacus. ‘It will be good to stop marching, eh?’

They murmured in agreement.

Spartacus chuckled. ‘You want to know why I’m here, eh?’

‘You haven’t just come for an idle chat,’ said Carbo in a dry tone.

Spartacus regarded him steadily. ‘No.’

Publipor emerged from his tent, a twig protruding from his lips. He had begun brushing his teeth when he became aware of their visitor. He spat quickly. ‘Spartacus! It’s an honour to see you.’

‘Publipor. You’re keeping well?’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you sir.’ Publipor raised his twig by way of apology. ‘I was about to turn in. I’ll come back out, though.’

‘No need to do that on my account. Get some rest. It will be another long day tomorrow.’ Spartacus’ tone was friendly but commanding.

Publipor looked relieved. ‘All right then. Good night, sir.’

‘Sleep well.’ Spartacus turned back to Carbo and Navio. ‘A good man,’ he said quietly.

‘He is,’ agreed Carbo. ‘He’s a great tracker. Thanks to him, we bring back a deer or a boar most times we go out.’

‘It’s natural that he’s good with a bow. How’s his sword craft coming along?’

‘Quite well,’ replied Navio. ‘Give it a couple more months and he’ll be up to scratch with the rest of the men.’

‘Good. We should have the time at Thurii to train unhindered. It’s unlikely that the Romans will attack us in the winter. But they’ll be on the move.’ Spartacus’ face darkened. ‘You know that, don’t you? There is no way under the sun that we will be left alone.’

‘Yes,’ they both answered. Arnax’s eyes grew wide.

‘At the moment, we have no idea what the dogs are planning. They, on the other hand, get word of our passage from every citizen farmer whose land we pass through.’

‘Not much we can do about that,’ said Navio. ‘And good intelligence on what the Romans are up to is hard to come by. The deserters who’ve joined us can’t risk going back to their units. They’d be crucified.’

‘I know. I have heard one interesting thing, however. Yesterday, one of the patrols stopped a trader who’d come from Rome. He had some news.’

They leaned forward, agog with interest.

‘Crassus has been given charge of the campaign against us.’

Carbo felt the blood drain from his face. ‘The same man who—’

‘Yes. The same prick who ruined your family. The one whom I fought in front of at Capua. Strange how the strands of fate twist, eh?’

‘Yes,’ whispered Carbo, clenching his fists.

‘Apparently, Crassus is to speak to the Senate soon. I was thinking that it would be good to hear what he has to say. Maybe even slip a blade between his ribs if the opportunity arose. That would knock the bastards back on their arses for a while.’ The idea had seemed daring – even rash – from the outset, but now that he’d spoken it out loud, Spartacus revelled in the thrill of it. He was going to go, and no one would stop him.

Navio’s eyebrows rose. ‘Would you trust me and Carbo again?’

‘Not you and Carbo, no.’

Carbo sat forward with a start. ‘What, you mean—?’

‘You and me, yes. We’ll go to Rome. Straight to the viper’s nest! See what we can find out.’

‘Are you serious?’ An image of his parents flashed unbidden into Carbo’s mind. Guiltily, he shoved it away.

‘Never more so.’ He could still hear Ariadne’s voice warning him not to go; see the disbelief on Pulcher’s and Egbeo’s faces. ‘I’m the leader of this army. I decide what happens.’

Carbo nodded. ‘Just you and me?’

‘Yes. You can play the big farmer’s son. I’ll be your slave.’

‘That could work,’ muttered Carbo, bemused.

‘What about the army?’ hissed Navio. ‘You can’t leave Castus and Gannicus unchecked. Those pieces of shit will ruin everything!’

‘No, they won’t. They want to find a good overwintering spot as much as I do. Once they’ve got to Thurii, all they will want to do is to drink wine and fornicate.’ Spartacus knew this for a lie. The Gauls would redouble their efforts to recruit men to their cause in his absence. His mind was made up, however. He would reassert his leadership when he returned. ‘I’ve spoken to Pulcher and Egbeo about what to do should any Roman forces appear. They can intervene if the Gauls decide to do something crazy.’

Navio looked dubious, but he didn’t argue.

‘What about Ariadne? Isn’t she due any day now?’ Like every other soldier, Carbo held Spartacus’ wife in high esteem. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she still walked like everyone else. ‘It’s good for the baby,’ she said daily with a bright smile. Yet Carbo had seen the strain on her face that very afternoon. Spartacus had to be aware of that. ‘Don’t you want to be here for the birth of your son?’