Spartacus: Rebellion (26 page)

‘Let’s get ahead of him. Head into the alley that Tulla brought us down. Charge out as they come alongside. We take a soldier each – the ones nearest us – and put them down, hard. Then you go for whichever legionary gets to you first. I’ll kill Crassus. You’ll have to hold off the rest as they come at you. Think you can do that?’

‘Yes,’ said Carbo with all the confidence he could muster.
I’m a dead man. What does that matter though, if we succeed?

‘The instant I’m done with Crassus, we flee back up the alley and lose ourselves in the back streets.’ His eyes drilled into Carbo. ‘Clear?’

He licked dry lips. ‘Yes.’

Spartacus honed in on the fractional delay in his reply. He chuckled. ‘You want to kill him, don’t you?’

‘I do.’

‘Think you can murder an unarmed man? You’d just have to hack into him, as you would with a side of pork. No thinking, no hesitating.’

Sudden doubt tore at Carbo. Could he slay Crassus in cold blood? He had always thought he could, but now the chance had fallen into his lap, he wasn’t so sure. His eyes fell away from the Thracian’s.

‘I’ll do it,’ Spartacus said.

Carbo rallied himself with images of his parents having to leave the house that been in the family for generations. The familiar rage flared in his belly. ‘I can do it,’ he protested.

‘No,’ replied Spartacus in a hard voice. ‘This is the only opportunity that we’ll ever get. There can be no cock-ups.’

Furious with himself, Carbo acquiesced.

‘Lead on then, or they’ll get ahead of us. Let’s pray that Tulla doesn’t come back before we’re out of sight. The last thing we need is her shouting after us.’

‘Right. I’ve had enough of waiting for the brat,’ said Carbo loudly, assuming his role of master once more. ‘Let’s head back to the inn.’ He strode off, not twenty paces ahead of Crassus and his escort. It was hard not to look behind him as he walked. The jingle of the legionaries’ mail was clearly audible.
I’ll have to get close enough to stab my man in the throat.
His anxiety grew, and his fingers stole of their own volition to the hilt of his dagger.
Jupiter, let my aim be true.

After they had slain two of the legionaries and while Spartacus was killing Crassus, their companions would turn on him. Carbo did not have time to dwell on what might happen after that. Crassus will die, he told himself. He reached the alleyway and quickly turned into it.

Spartacus came spilling in behind him. His knife was already in his hand. ‘Ready?’

Drawing his own blade, Carbo nodded.

Spartacus padded to the corner of the building and peered around it with great caution. Then he stepped back and glanced at Carbo. ‘They’re fifteen paces away. You take the front legionary on this side. I’ll take the next one. Move the instant your man is parallel with us. Don’t wait until he or Crassus have passed by or they might realise what’s going on.’

‘Yes.’ Spartacus was taking the harder kill, but Carbo didn’t argue. He moved in front of the Thracian, as far forward as he could without actually being seen, and pressed himself against the cool brickwork.

‘Ten paces they’ll be now,’ whispered Spartacus. ‘Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.’

Carbo held his dagger with the tip pointing towards the ground, the way he’d been trained. It provided a far stronger grip, and was almost impossible to knock from his fingers. His gaze narrowed to the space before him: the gap that led to the street. He was aware of the blood rushing in his ears, the crunch of
caligae
on the uneven ground and the clink of mail. In the background, noises from the basilica – and Spartacus’ voice. ‘Five. Four. Three.’

Carbo tensed.

‘Two. One. Now.’

The first thing Carbo saw was the edge of a scutum. Then a mailed shoulder, and a head covered by a crested bronze-bowl helmet. Carbo darted forward. Grabbing the top edge of the shield with his left hand, he ripped it downwards. The unsuspecting legionary was jerked downwards and to the side, exposing his neck. Raising his knife, Carbo hammered it into the hollow to the side of the collarbone. He was aware of Spartacus shooting forward like a wraith to his left, of the other soldiers’ confused faces turning towards him, of Crassus’ shocked expression. A scream of agony from his victim dragged him back. He ripped free his blade, releasing a spray of bright red blood into the air. Carbo stabbed the man again for good measure, and let him fall.

‘It must be them!’ roared the second man at the front – Caepio. ‘Protect Crassus!’

At the time, the words didn’t register with Carbo, because his attention was focused on Caepio, who was charging at him with a drawn sword.

Fortunately, Caepio tripped as he leaped forward. His scutum, which should have thumped into Carbo’s chest, instead caught Crassus in the side, sending him stumbling to one side.

‘Kill him, you fool!’ screeched the politician, backing away towards the wall of the Curia.

Gripping his gladius, Caepio advanced.

From the corner of his eye, Carbo saw a pair of bodies on the ground and Spartacus scrambling forward at Crassus. The two last legionaries, his mind screamed. Where in Hades are they? He couldn’t look around, though, because Caepio was coming at him fast. One. The centurion’s shield boss was rammed at Carbo’s face. Two. A throat-ripping thrust of his sword followed. He dodged the first and backed away from the second.

‘I recognise you! You’re the traitor I spoke to after the munus.’ Snarling with pleasure, Caepio swept forward. ‘Ready to choke on your own blood, you vermin?’

Carbo didn’t answer. Shieldless, his only form of defence was to retreat. That took him further away from Spartacus, and the fifth and sixth soldiers, who he now saw had not made for him. Instead, they had somehow got between Crassus and the Thracian and were shielding him with their scuta. Carbo cursed. With just a dagger, there was no way that Spartacus could succeed. There was nothing he could do to help either. Every time he tried to move in the direction of the Forum, Caepio blocked his way. He shot a glance behind him. A safe distance away, a crowd of shocked citizens were watching their every move. He spat another oath. The same would be happening beyond where Spartacus was. The alarm would have been raised. Any moment, more soldiers would come to Crassus’ rescue.

Spartacus knew it too. He made one last desperate attempt to reach Crassus, darting in to one side of the legionaries guarding him. He managed to strike the leftmost man in the fleshy part of his shield arm. As he did, Crassus cursed and shrank back against the wall. If I’d had more time, thought Spartacus, it might have made a difference. No one could hold the heavy weight of a scutum for long after suffering such a wound. But the soldier’s companion drove at him with a flurry of blows from his shield and sword, and he had to withdraw. A quick glance towards the Forum told him that his attempt was over. A large group of legionaries, accompanied by men in civilian clothes – some of the veterans, no doubt – were sprinting up the street.

He pinned Crassus with his stare. ‘It’s not to be this time. But next time you won’t be so lucky.’

Crassus glared at him. ‘I should have ordered you killed that day.’

‘That’s right, you cocksucker. A stupid mistake, eh?’ called Spartacus over his shoulder as he ran off.

‘After him!’ screamed Crassus, shoving his guards in the back and gesticulating wildly at the approaching men. ‘It
is
Spartacus! A gold piece to the man who brings me his body!’

Caepio was too busy with Carbo; he didn’t see Spartacus coming.
I could kill him easily enough.
Yet the dignity with which the centurion had conducted himself still lingered in his mind. Instead he shoulder-charged Caepio from behind, sending him flying to the ground. Spartacus bounded over him with a great leap. ‘Fortuna is smiling on you today.’

‘Curse you for a treacherous assassin!’ Caepio spat. ‘I won’t forget this.’

‘Neither will I.’ What a missed opportunity, thought Spartacus grimly. Crassus should be coughing out his last breath. He locked eyes with Carbo. ‘Let’s move!’

They fled up the street. Neither saw the little figure in their wake, darting in and out between the pursuing soldiers. There was a cup of wine in her hand.

Spartacus led the way. He ran through the dimly lit alleyway, barging past an old man carrying a hen by the neck, to a junction with another. He turned left blindly and hared up that, followed by Carbo. Fifty paces later, the narrow way forked. He took the right. A moment later he cursed as his feet sank into a stinking pile of semi-liquid waste. ‘A dung heap.’ His teeth flashed in the darkness at Carbo. ‘They won’t want to follow us through this. If they do, at least they’ll be covered in shit as well.’

Carbo peered back whence they had come. He couldn’t hear any sounds of pursuit. ‘I think we’ve lost them.’

‘Maybe. They’ll be searching every street by now, though. We need a place to lie low.’

‘Shouldn’t we get out of the city?’

‘It’s too late for that. The first thing Crassus will have done is to order soldiers to every single gate. Anyone trying to leave will be questioned, certainly for the rest of the day. We’ll have a better chance if we can hole up somewhere until tomorrow and try then.’ It will still be damn risky, thought Spartacus. Had it been worth the risk? Yes, because if their attempt had succeeded, the Romans would have been thrown into complete disarray.

‘We could always hide here.’

Spartacus indicated the narrow window openings above them. ‘Someone will see us, and put two and two together. It’ll be dangerous to head back to the Elysian Fields, but it’s our best option.’

Carbo didn’t like the idea either, but he couldn’t think of another. He swung his head this way and that, trying to get his bearings. ‘Do you even know which direction it is?’

‘No.’

‘We’ll try this way,’ said Spartacus, taking a step forward.

‘You’ll get even more lost if you do.’

Carbo turned to see a small shape scurrying out of the gloom. He couldn’t help but grin. It was Tulla, still clutching the dregs of a cup of wine.

‘You!’ spat Spartacus. ‘Why have you followed us?’

‘You haven’t paid me.’ Tulla’s voice died away as Spartacus took a step towards her.

‘Did you see what happened?’ demanded the Thracian.

‘Y-yes,’ replied the girl, backing away. ‘Is it true that you’re Spartacus?’

Spartacus darted forward and grabbed Tulla by the front of her tunic.

Carbo’s breath caught in his chest.

‘It is.’

‘Y-you’ve just been pretending to be a slave? Why?’

‘To find out what’s going on here. To discover what Crassus is planning to do.’

‘And when you saw a chance to assassinate him, you took it.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Are you going to kill me now?’ Despite Tulla’s bravado, her voice quavered.

‘I’m not in the habit of murdering children, but I don’t want the soldiers to find us either. There’s no other way, really.’ Spartacus placed his knife against the side of Tulla’s scrawny neck.

Carbo saw the fabric covering the girl’s groin darken as she lost control of her bladder. ‘Spartacus, please!’

The Thracian didn’t answer, but his knife stayed where it was. Tulla’s eyes flickered from Carbo up to Spartacus and back again, but she had lost the ability to speak.

‘You’re to become a father soon,’ said Carbo.

‘What has that to do with it?’ Spartacus demanded harshly.

‘If you have a daughter, imagine her when she’s Tulla’s age.’

‘I am to have a son, not a daughter,’ Spartacus barked. ‘And he will be no gutter rat.’ The tip of the dagger dug into the skin, causing Tulla to wail in terror and letting a fat drop of blood drop to the ground.

‘Wait! We could make a deal with her.’

Spartacus stared at Carbo without speaking, but again his knife remained still.

‘Offer her an aureus to guide us to the Elysian Fields,’ said Carbo quickly. ‘She will stay there with us and in the morning, we’ll give her another gold coin to take us to one of the quieter gates.’

Spartacus chuckled. ‘That’s enough to live on for a year! Why would I do that when I can simply cut her throat and keep the money?’

‘Because it would mean one less life being lost. She’s an innocent child.’

‘Innocent? So were the children in Thracian villages that the fucking Romans murdered a few years back!’ The muscles in Spartacus’ forearm tensed.

‘Do it for me then,’ said Carbo, wondering if he was going too far. ‘Please.’

Spartacus’ lips thinned. ‘You dare to question me?’

‘She will not play us false,’ urged Carbo. ‘I know it.’

Spartacus used the point of the blade to force Tulla’s chin upwards. ‘Hear that? Carbo trusts you. With his own life.’ He shot a flinty look at Carbo, whose mouth went very dry. ‘Are you worthy of that trust?’

‘Y-y-yes, sir.’

He let her go and Carbo let out a ragged breath.
Thank the gods.

The Thracian fumbled in the purse that hung unseen around his neck. ‘Here.’

Tulla grabbed the coin, and turned it over and over. ‘This is only a denarius!’

‘That’s right. And this,’ said Spartacus, flicking a gold coin between his fingers, ‘is one of the aurei you’re going to earn. If I give it to you now, you’ll probably still play us false. And I’ll have to kill Carbo here.’

Tulla’s eyes grew beady.

‘It’s more than you’ve ever had in your damn life,’ said Carbo angrily, sure that the money was motivating the girl more than
his
life.

Tulla reached out to try and snatch the aureus, but Spartacus lifted his hand out of reach. ‘You will be paid in full if you do as I’ve asked. But if you don’t, I will hunt you down and kill you. Not nicely, like I was going to do just now. Very slowly.’

Tulla’s face went pale beneath the grime. ‘All right. You know that the gods will keep you to your side of the bargain?’

Carbo was relieved to hear her words. If she believed in oaths, she would not betray his trust. If she did, he had little doubt that the Thracian would kill him. Despite Spartacus’ continuing trust, he’d already made two mistakes too many.