Spartacus: The Gladiator (40 page)

Pushing his way to the bar, Carbo spoke to the proprietor, a wall-eyed man with heavy stubble coating his long jaw. As promised by the guard at the gate, a bronze coin secured him a corner in one of the stables. Throwing down his sleeping roll, he returned to purchase a jug of wine and some bread and cheese. With his hands full, Carbo headed for an unoccupied table against one wall. The best – and safest – place to observe the goings on was one where he could sit with his back against cool brickwork. His belly grumbled noisily as he sat down, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since midday. Carbo forgot all about the other customers and set upon his food with purpose.

It didn’t take him long to clear his plate and throw back two cups of the watered-down wine. Feeling much better, Carbo belched. He filled his cup again and cast his gaze casually around the room. A couple of tables over, four traders were loudly playing dice. Ignoring the demands of those around him to shut up, a man with wine stains all down his tunic bawled an out-of-tune ditty about Odysseus’ journey. A pair of greybeards argued over the pieces on a ‘Robbers’ board. Beside them, a florid-faced merchant pawed greedily at a whore’s crotch. Three watching veterans sniggered and made lewd suggestions about what the pair might get up to.

Carbo thought of Chloris and his groin throbbed. He felt the little purse, which hung from a thong around his neck, and considered taking one of the whores upstairs. It was commonplace for such women to use a room over taverns. He studied them all one by one, and decided against it.
They’re cheap and nasty. I’ll catch some disease
. A higher-class establishment would be far better. There at least they might wash between customers.
Get a grip. That’s not what I’m here for
. Carbo decided to finish the jug of wine and go to bed. Markets began trading at dawn, and he wanted to be there from the start.

‘Come far?’

To the right, a man was sitting with his back to the wall, as Carbo was. He had brown hair, cut in the military style, two differently coloured eyes, and high, wide cheekbones. He was perhaps a decade older than Carbo.

‘Are you talking to me?’

‘Yes. I saw you come in. It looked as if you’d been on the road. You must have barely made it before they closed the gate.’ His accent was well educated, at odds with the other clientele.

He’s only being friendly
. ‘You have the right of it. Another few moments and I would have been left outside for the night. I’m damn glad that didn’t happen.’

The other pointed to his jug. ‘You’d get none of this piss for a start!’

Carbo chuckled. ‘No.’

‘Tempted to try one of the whores as well?’

‘Not the ones in here. They’re pox-ridden for sure.’

‘You’re not wrong there. I’m Navio.’ He leaned over and clinked his cup off Carbo’s. The movement revealed his waist, which was encircled by a gilded belt. Navio saw Carbo’s eyes take it in. ‘Yes, I’m a soldier.’ His expression soured. ‘Or I was.’

‘My name’s Carbo.’ He waited, but no more information was offered.

‘You must be a farmer’s son, eh? Come to seek out the city’s fleshpots?’

Carbo shot Navio a wary look.

Navio smiled. ‘Come on. Your tunic might be homespun and your knife cheaply made, but your accent is not that of a labourer. You’re from a good family, like me.’

Alarm filled Carbo.
Gods, I hadn’t thought of the way I sound
. He scanned Navio’s tanned face, but could see no suspicion in it.
One story’s as good as another
. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Yes.’ Navio took a mouthful of wine.

Wanting to fit into his new role better, Carbo adopted a sullen tone. ‘I’ve been working on the farm all summer without a break. No thanks from my father, of course. I decided to have a few days off. It’s been well earned.’

‘Is that all you have to complain of? Do you know how lucky you are?’ asked Navio sourly.

‘I’ve got plenty more to worry about,’ replied Carbo sharply, thinking of his mission. ‘As no doubt you have.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Navio, with an embarrassed look. ‘Things haven’t gone well for me recently.’

‘Were you discharged?’

Navio’s lips twisted with bitterness. ‘It was a bit more permanent than that.’ Noticing Carbo’s interest, a shutter came down across his face. ‘It’s none of your business, though.’

‘No,’ said Carbo stiffly.
He must have been thrown out of the army
. ‘As you please.’

‘Forgive my rudeness. Have some of my wine.’ Navio filled Carbo’s cup to the brim before raising his own. ‘To new friends and good company!’

Relenting, Carbo repeated the toast.

‘The landlord told me about a whorehouse one street over,’ confided Navio with a wink. ‘The women there are veritable Venuses compared to the ones here, he said. Clean too. Fancy trying it in a bit?’

Carbo suddenly pictured a woman different to Chloris, with her Greek looks. A large-breasted, creamy-skinned beauty, lying on her back, urging him to fuck her.
Where’s the harm in that?
‘Sounds like a good idea.’

‘Let’s drink to that!’

They both drained their cups. Carbo poured more wine for both of them, and they fell into a more neutral conversation, bantering with each other about the inn’s other customers. Which of the four merchants would win the next dice game. Whether someone would eventually silence the caterwauling singer. Which prostitute would snare a customer first. Whether an argument between a pair of men would turn into a fight. It passed the time admirably.

Two jugs of wine later, Carbo was viewing the world with much more benevolence. A warm, fuzzy feeling filled his head. The whores had even become appealing. Navio caught him ogling the youngest one, and laughed. ‘It’s time to find that brothel. Come on!’

They threaded their way unsteadily between the tables. Carbo took the opportunity to squeeze a prostitute’s buttocks as he passed, grinning as she squealed in mock horror. She immediately turned and lifted her skirt, revealing the dark triangle of hair in her groin. ‘Fancy a bit of this? Two sestertii and it’s yours for an hour.’

‘An hour? He’d only need two or three thrusts to finish!’ Navio cried. He was nearly in the alley. ‘Come on, Carbo. Let’s go.’

Reluctantly, Carbo tore his eyes from the whore’s crotch and headed for the entrance.

Satisfied, Navio strode off.

‘Hold on, I need a piss.’ But Navio didn’t hear his mumble. By the time Carbo had emerged, the soldier was already twenty paces away. ‘Screw him, I can’t wait.’ Carbo fumbled his way to the nearest wall and pulled up his tunic. After some difficulty with his licium, he freed himself. With a sigh of relief, he watched his stream of urine splashing off the bricks.

When he turned back, the alleyway that led back to the main street was empty. Cursing under his breath, Carbo hurried after Navio. He was about to call out, telling his new friend to wait, when he heard a soft
thud
, as a body makes when it hits the ground. Carbo’s words dried in his throat.
That was how I was attacked after leaving the tavern in Capua
. He reached for his dagger, and was reassured by the cool bone of its hilt. Pausing for a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the Stygian gloom, Carbo slid his feet along the dusty ground as quietly as he could.

Two score paces on, against the faint light of a lamp on a house’s wall, he made out a man’s shape crouching over a motionless form.
Navio!
White-hot rage washed away the fuzziness in Carbo’s head. He didn’t even consider returning to the safety of the inn. Instead, he drew his knife, gripping it in his fist with the blade pointed towards the ground. It was the method taught to him by Spartacus. ‘This way, no bastard can knock the weapon out of your hand, and you can still stick it wherever you like.’

Navio’s assailant rolled him over and began pawing through his clothes. ‘Where’s the fucking purse?’

Navio groaned and Carbo’s heart leaped.
He’s not dead then
. Squinting, he judged that the distance between them had closed to perhaps fifteen steps. There was no sign that the lowlife had any companions, but Carbo still wasn’t near enough.

Coins clinked, and the thief made a pleased sound. ‘Anything else?’ he muttered, stooping over Navio again.

Thanking the gods for the lowlife’s greed, Carbo hurried forward.

Ten paces. Eight. Six. Four.

Undoing Navio’s gilded belt, the thief tugged it from around his waist. ‘This’ll fetch a tidy sum.’ His hand reached out and picked up a club, and then he straightened.

There was a
click
as one of Carbo’s sandals scuffed a stone.

The thief half turned in surprise. ‘What—’

It was the last thing he said. Carbo hammered his knife down into the side of the thief’s neck. He drove it so hard that it went in right to the hilt. Carbo ripped it out savagely, setting free a gout of blood that splattered his face. Uncaring, he stabbed the thief once, twice, three times in the chest. The blade grated off ribs and into the chest cavity, shearing the vital tissues into pieces. Carbo twisted it for good measure each time. It was when the thief slumped into him, unmoving, and the club dropped from his nerveless fingers, that Carbo realised that he was dead, or dying.
Just what you deserve, you bastard
. With a satisfied grunt, he heaved the thief to one side.

He crouched in the darkness, his knife ready, listening for anyone else.

The only sound was Navio’s laboured breathing.

Carbo dropped to his knees. ‘Navio! Can you hear me?’

There was no answer.
How hard did the whoreson hit him?
Carbo reached out, feeling Navio’s face and scalp for signs of damage. Finding a sticky mat of hair, he lifted his hand, peering at it in the dim twilight. The fluid on his fingers was dark.
Blood
. Carbo returned to the spot, pressing down gently as he’d seen the surgeon in the ludus doing.

‘Hades, that fucking hurts!’ Navio growled. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’

Carbo let out a long breath of relief. ‘Sorry.’

‘As if that sewer rat didn’t hit me hard enough,’ complained Navio.

‘Can you sit up?’

‘I think so. Help me.’

Carbo put a hand around Navio’s shoulders and lifted. ‘Why the hell didn’t you wait for me? I was only having a piss.’

‘I thought you were going to waste your money on that mule-faced whore.’

‘No, I wasn’t.’

‘I’ll know better next time.’ Navio locked eyes with him. ‘I owe you. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ replied Carbo, mollified.

‘Now, where’s the brothel? It can’t be far.’ Navio twisted his head to see, and then he groaned.

‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea,’ warned Carbo. ‘Can you even stand, never mind ask your prick to do so?’

Navio chuckled throatily. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

‘Let’s go back to the inn.’

‘My belt. Where is it?’

Carbo fumbled around until his fingers closed on the gilded metal and leather. ‘Here. I’ll carry it for you.’ With his help, Navio stood. He kicked feebly at the thief’s body. ‘You made short work of that scumbag. Have you been trained to use weapons?’

Carbo thought fast. ‘We had a slave, a Samnite who’d fought in the Social War. He taught me a lot.’

‘The Social War, eh?’ There was a bitter edge to Navio’s weak laugh.

‘What?’ Carbo moved forward, supporting Navio.

‘Nothing.’

Carbo didn’t push it. Instead, he supported Navio back to the inn. Few people paid them any heed as they re-entered, for which Carbo was grateful. Although no one would care that he’d killed a thief, he didn’t want to have to explain himself to the city watch. ‘Let’s get you to bed,’ he muttered to Navio. ‘You need to sleep your injury off.’

‘No damn way. I owe you a drink. It’s the least I can do.’

‘But the blood on your head—’

‘Fuck that. I’ve had far worse. I want wine. Lots of it, in fact.’

The determination in Navio’s voice was clear. ‘All right.’ Carbo guided them back to the table he’d sat at. They ordered another jug. When it arrived, Navio poured them both a cup with a shaking arm. ‘To friendship!’ he said, lifting his wine. Carbo echoed the toast with a grin, and they downed the first cup in one swallow. Navio did the honours again, spilling some on the tabletop. ‘That the whoreson who tried to rob me gets a warm welcome from Hades!’ Carbo nodded and threw back the second cup. It would settle his nerves.
The thief would have killed me in the blink of an eye. He’s no damn loss
.

Without hesitation, Navio filled their cups again. ‘To courage and loyalty!’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Carbo fervently.

‘I’d say you would,’ said Navio with a shrewd look. ‘You’re a good man.’