The Parthian (39 page)

‘A silver mine,’ he said to Byrd, ‘you’re sure?’

‘Romani only dig mines for gold or silver,’ he replied. ‘No bother with anything else. One of men tell me. Many soldiers at mine to protect precious ore.’

‘Makes sense,’ said Akmon, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic after drinking some wine.

‘We could take it easily enough,’ I added. ‘I could leave in the morning with two or three companies.’

Spartacus leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the table. ‘A silver mine explains why the city is so well protected and large, and therefore prosperous. The Romans must ship the silver from Thurii, across the gulf to Tarentum and then up the Appian Way to Rome. How far to the mine?’

‘Half a day’s ride, lord,’ replied Byrd.

Spartacus looked at me. ‘You and I will ride there tomorrow. But we’ll take some of my Thracians as well as your horse.’

‘That will slow us up,’ I said.

‘True, but if as your man says the garrison at the mine is large, cavalry won’t be enough.’ He pulled his sword from its scabbard. ‘Besides, a bit of fighting will blow the cobwebs away. Akmon, you will command in my absence.’

‘What use is more silver if we can’t buy anything with it?’ said Akmon.

The next morning we left early, two hundred horse and the same number of foot. Claudia embraced her husband who seemed in high spirits, the prospect of adventure clearly preferable to spending another day inspecting the ditch and palisade and talking Crixus out of making a direct assault on the city. The day was sunny and warm and soon we had left the plain and were heading up into the mountains, along a track that lanced through thick woods of beech and gorges cut by fast-flowing streams. The air became cooler as we climbed, and our pace slowed as men dismounted to lead their horses on foot, the Thracians in their mail shirts and helmets hauling shields, swords, food and javelins behind us. We made a lot of noise that seemed to irritate Byrd, who was clearly enjoying our company not at all. The area was alive with different fauna, such as silver fir, maple, laurel, oak, holly, water mint and Dog Rose. It was also teeming with wildlife — black squirrel, deer, Red Kites and otters. We once saw an eagle soaring above us through a gap in the trees, which Spartacus reckoned was a good omen. Halting mid-afternoon, Byrd, Spartacus and I continued on foot, leaving the track and moving through the trees.

We followed Byrd through the forest, climbing steadily until we reached the top of a large outcrop, one of several that dotted the immediate area. We crawled to the edge of the cliff and peered down. Below us was a large camp containing wooden huts, a fenced-off area filled with rows of tents, a stable block and big sheds where the silver was processed. The camp had been established next to a rock face, the whole area having been cleared of trees and foliage. There was a track leading from the camp. In the rock face itself were two large entrances to the mine, from which emerged periodically slaves hauling sledges piled with ore. Guards stood at the entrance to the camp, which was surrounded by a wooden fence, and at the entrances to the mine, and also at the entrance to the fenced-off area where the slaves who worked the mine were housed. The site echoed with the sounds of men barking orders, while overhead a pall of smoke hung over the camp. 

We crawled away from the edge and then walked back to the men. Spartacus said nothing during the journey, though when we got back he collected the officers around him and announced that we would attack in the morning.

‘No fires tonight and we move before dawn,’ he told us. ‘Pacorus, leave the horses here under guard and put fifty of your men with bows on the cliff edge we were looking down from earlier. They are to kill as many Romans as they can from their vantage point while my men and the rest of your Parthians force the gate and take the camp.’

The plan seemed simple enough, though I wondered why we were bothering to capture a silver mine. He told me later as we sat huddled with our cloaks around us, as I leaned against the trunk of a tall pine. The night was cool and the sky clear, the moon casting a pale glow over the forest through the gaps in the treetops. Most of the men tried to snatch a few hours’ sleep, but Spartacus could not sleep and neither could I, though my insomnia was due to the cold and knots of bark digging into my back.  

‘I thought we had captured large quantities of gold and silver,’ I said.

‘You can never have enough gold or silver,’ he said, grinning.

‘So we take the mine because we need more treasure? The army lives off the land, so why do we need the mine?’

‘To deprive the Romans of it, of course.’

I was confused. ‘To what ends?’

‘Deep vein mining they call it,’ he replied. ‘I remember talking to a gladiator back in Capua, a man who had worked in a similar mine before being sold to the
ludus
. He told me that the Romans only dig underground for gold and silver. The mine we saw today would have taken a lot of time and money to build and more to maintain. And silver mines don’t grow on trees, so to speak. So if we take it and threaten to destroy it then the rich owners, who you can bet live in Thurii, will be more amenable to talks.’

‘Talks?’ I queried. 

‘Crixus wants nothing more than to storm the place and kill all the inhabitants, and the longer our desultory siege drags on the greater the clamour for him to try, especially among the Gauls. If he succeeds then he will try to take command from me. However, if I can cut the ground from beneath his feet then his power will wane.’

‘I thought he was a friend of yours.’

Spartacus looked directly at me. ‘Gladiators have no friends, at least not while they are fighting. The
ludus
is called a family, but it is really a brotherhood, in which we respect each other and promise that we would give those killed a decent burial, but you cannot be a friend to someone you might one day face in the arena. I respect Crixus because he is a good fighter and also uncomplicated. But he is all brawn and no brains and eventually that will be his undoing.’

‘I do not like him,’ I said.

‘And he dislike you, but you are in good company. He hates me as well.’

‘He does?’ I was shocked.

‘Of course, for I stand in the way of the one thing he desires?’

‘You mean Claudia?’

He laughed. ‘No, command of the army. Crixus wants to be a king with his own kingdom. He thinks the Romans can be brushed aside easily, leaving him to rule the whole of southern Italy. That’s the real reason he dislike you.’

‘Because I want to rule the south of Italy?’

He shook his head. ‘The cold has obviously addled your brain. No, because you already have a kingdom, or at least are an heir to one. And Crixus thinks that is most unfair.’

‘If he thinks at all,’ I added.

‘He will never leave Italy,’ said Spartacus, solemnly. ‘He exists to fight. He could have fought in the Roman Army, but he hates discipline and so he kills Romans instead. I assume all Gauls are like him.’

‘Not all, lord.’

‘Gallia is unique, I agree. You think to take her back to Parthia with you?’

I flushed with embarrassment. ‘I had not thought that far ahead, lord.’

‘I wager she has. She’s a smart one, beautiful too. And now she’s good with a bow. She’ll take some taming.’

‘I don’t want to tame her, lord.’

‘Very sensible, for I doubt any man can. Anyhow, that’s one Gaul who wants to be with you.’

‘Really?’

‘Claudia told me, though you are not to say that I told you.’

I felt elated and could have shouted out loud. The cold and discomfort fled from me as I mulled his words in my mind over and over again.

We left the horses and a few guards two hours before dawn and moved slowly through the trees, two hundred Thracians carrying shields and
pila
and nearly two hundred horse archers with full quivers with swords at their hips. A handful we left behind to guard the horses. We moved slowly so as to make as little noise as possible, but even though our eyes had grown accustomed to the moon-washed night, the shadows cast by the trees meant some tripped over tree roots and dead branches lying on the forest floor. Byrd led us. I noticed Spartacus was very light on his feet and seemed to be weightless as he moved through the trees. I followed him and the rest of the men followed me in a long column behind. It seemed an eternity before we neared the camp, and by then I was both cold and hungry. I knelt beside Spartacus and we waited until the last of our men had arrived. He called the officers to him and we had an impromptu council of war. He talked in a hushed voice as he told us his plan of attack. Fifty archers would provide covering fire from the top of the rock outcrop that we had used to observe the camp. Byrd led these men to their positions.

We stealthily approached the gates to the mine, which were nothing more than crude barriers made from cut-down trees flanked by two wooden platforms, on each of which stood a guard. The gates and the fence were obviously designed to keep people in, not attackers out. But then that was no surprise, being in the heart of Italy. Spartacus and I moved to the edge of the treeline that surrounded the mine.

‘Think you and one or your men can kill those guards with the first arrow?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Do you want them shot through the neck so they don’t make a sound.’

‘Don’t get cocky, just drop them and we’ll rush the gate.’

I tapped one of my men on the shoulder and we moved into position, either side of a tree facing the gates. The distance was about two hundred feet, maybe less. In the eastern sky the first hint of dawn was appearing, barely discernible cracks of red and orange. Bozan had always told me that the best time to surprise the enemy was as the dawn was breaking, when men involuntarily eased after seeing through another night. Subconsciously the arrival of a new day made the mind relax after the tension of the darkness, when the black could hide a host of enemies. Day means light, warmth and safety. ‘Hit them when dawn breaks,’ he once told me, ‘and your victory will be swift.’ I eased back the bowstring and released the arrow; the other archer did the same. The arrows made little sound as they each struck their targets. My man was leaning against the wooden rail on the platform, wrapped in his cloak with his shield propped up against the same rail. He was rubbing his hands together and peering at the interior of the camp. My arrow struck him in the middle of his back, sending him sprawling onto the platform. The second sentry was standing leaning on his shield looking towards the forest when the arrow hit him in the right shoulder, sending him spinning off the platform and landing on the ground with a crump. 

Spartacus tapped me on the shoulder as he ran past me towards the gates, followed by the others. I too rushed forward as he stopped at the gates and pointed at two of his men, who placed their backs against the gates and cupped their hands together. Spartacus ran at one of them, put his right foot in the man’s hands and was hoisted onto the top of the gate, then dropped over the other side. I followed him, landing hard on the ground inside the camp. He picked me up and we released the iron bar that had been dropped into brackets fastened to each gate to keep them shut. The guard that had been shot off his platform was moaning and trying to crawl away, but Spartacus pulled his dagger and slit his throat. I opened the gates and the others poured into the camp. The dawn was breaking now and in the half-light figures could be seen coming out of the huts that housed the guards. Morning roll call! Spartacus led his Thracians towards the straw-roofed huts, racing in front of the sheds where the silver ore was separated. In front of the huts, about a hundred yards away, was the slave compound, a fenced enclosure containing tents. Two guards stood at its iron gate, who were quickly felled by arrows. But now an alarm bell was being rung and out of the doors of the huts poured legionaries frantically adjusting helmets, belts and tunics. They formed up at the far end of the compound, two centuries of them being roughly shoved into their ranks by two centurions. Spartacus halted his men and formed them up into two groups eight ranks deep, the men standing ready to advance and hurl their
pila
. I ordered the majority of my men to deploy behind the Thracians, ready to loose their arrows at the Romans, deploying others to act as flank guards at the ore sheds and in front of the two entrances to the mine, as I did not know if there were any guards in the mine itself. 

The Romans started to move forward, but then my archers on the outcrop overlooking the camp began a steady hail of arrows against them, which stopped them in their tracks. I gave the order to fire and arrows flew over the Thracians and into the front ranks of the Romans. The latter, true to form, locked their shields to the front, sides and over their heads, to produce what looked like two large red boxes sat on the ground. The men on the outcrop continued to shoot at the shield blocks, while Spartacus yelled, ‘Swords!’ and rushed forward. The Thracians dumped their javelins on the ground and charged the Romans. As they raced forward we fired another volley of arrows, which hit their shields seconds before the Thracians smashed into their ranks. I was told later by those watching from above that this charge buckled the front of the Roman formations, and then broke them as Spartacus and his men stabbed repeatedly at their enemies. Seasoned troops may have stood and fought as their comrades in front of them were disemboweled and lacerated by expertly wielded swords, but these were prison guards and in a few seconds the two formations had fallen apart. I led my men forward in the wake of the Thracians, as the fighting suddenly became a mass of individual fights, and soon only one. Most of the Romans threw down their weapons and begged for mercy, while others who carried on fighting were soon cut down. And so it happened that in the end Spartacus stood alone with sword and shield challenging the Romans to fight him. There was no shortage of takers. We formed a semi-circle around our general as he fought against five Romans who circled him. I must confess I was worried, but his men merely yelped and cheered him on.