Spartacus: The Gladiator (29 page)

‘Of course.’ Quickly, she grabbed up a fabric-wrapped bundle and a wicker basket from the bed. ‘I’m ready.’

Gods, but she’s brave
. Taking her by the hand, he led her outside. He was relieved to find that although the guards had emerged into the yard, they were making little headway. Holding tables, Crixus and the last of his men were mounting a ferocious rearguard action, allowing more gladiators to escape.
Time is still of the essence
.

‘Wait.’

‘Ariadne!’

Pulling free, Ariadne began talking to her snake in a low, calm voice. When she had approached to within a few steps, she threw a cloth over it and swiftly grabbed it behind the head. Shoving it into the basket, she gave Spartacus a pleased look. ‘I can’t leave it behind. It saved my life.’

‘Let’s go!’

Together with Getas and the Scythians, they raced past Phortis’ corpse, following the walkway around to the gate rather than crossing the yard. Spartacus was about to shout at Crixus to pull back when the Gaul turned and saw him.

‘Where’s Gavius?’ asked Spartacus.

‘Dead. The remainder of his men have broken.’

Spartacus hid his disappointment. ‘Time to go then.’ Quickly, he led Ariadne out on to the street, which was filled with gladiators. Among them were Castus and Gannicus. He saw Carbo’s face there, and those of Amatokos and Chloris too.
Considerably less than a hundred. So few
. ‘All men with weapons, to the front! When Crixus and his lads come out, I want a false charge at the guards. Show them that we mean fucking business. It’ll remind them that Batiatus wields no power beyond the ludus. Clear?’

They roared their agreement back at him. Barely armed or not, the gladiators’ bloodlust was up. Spartacus felt the same, but he calmed himself.

They waited on either side of the gate as the Gauls withdrew in good order towards them.

‘Crixus! Tell your men to split in the middle as you come out,’ Spartacus shouted. ‘We’ll drive the bastards back.’

Crixus bellowed something in Gaulish.

With eager faces, the gladiators around Spartacus moved forward a step.

‘Hold!’ He lifted his gladius high. ‘Hold!’

They did as he said.

Crixus and his men shuffled backwards out of the ludus.

The guards’ instinct kicked in, and their advance slowed.

The Gauls split apart, opening a central corridor.

‘Let’s show them that we’ll rip their hearts out!’ roared Spartacus. ‘Now!’ He charged forward, and was followed by a heaving mass of gladiators.

The guards took one look at them and came to a dead halt. Then, as one, they began retreating into the ludus.

Spartacus burned to pursue them. Instead, he slowed down and stopped. ‘Halt,’ he cried. ‘They’re scared enough. Back to the street!’ Keeping his face to the front, Spartacus began reversing. On the balcony, he could see Batiatus screaming abuse at his men.
Shout all you like, cocksucker. They have more sense than to die needlessly
. In forlorn twos and threes, the fighters who had been left behind stood and watched as the escaping gladiators withdrew. They had their chance, thought Spartacus harshly. ‘Pull the gates to. The dogs won’t dare open them again for a while.’

The four other leaders were waiting for him. They exchanged a brief, wary look.

‘Which way?’ demanded Oenomaus.

‘Carbo?’ cried Spartacus.

‘Vesuvius is that way.’ Carbo pointed confidently down the street. ‘If we skirt around the walls, we can join the main road to the south of the town.’

‘Good,’ said Spartacus.

Oenomaus was already issuing orders to his men. The three Gauls were doing the same.

Spartacus glanced at Ariadne, who nodded her readiness. About twenty men were waiting for his command. The majority were Thracian, but Carbo was there too. He also spotted at least one Greek, and a pair of Nubians. Another woman in addition to Chloris. And, of course, the two remaining Scythians.
I don’t even know their names
.

His eyes darted around. ‘Where’s Seuthes?’

Getas’ face darkened. ‘He didn’t make it.’

‘What happened?’

‘One of the guards at the gate was playing dead. He stabbed Seuthes from below.’ Getas’ fingers touched his groin. ‘Seuthes didn’t have a chance. He bled out as I watched.’ His face twitched with grief.

Spartacus’ gaze flickered back to the gate.
Sleep well, brother
. Then, out loud, ‘Time to move.’

He loped off. Ariadne ran beside him. Behind them came Getas, Carbo and his men. In a swarming tide, the remainder followed.

From the vegetable garden, the cock crowed again.

Spartacus forgot his sorrow for a moment. At least he’d never have to listen to the damn bird again.

Chapter X

MARCUS LICINIUS CRASSUS exited the great bronze doors that framed the entrance to the Curia, the building where the Senate met, and where he had just spent the morning listening to debates. Scores upon scores of toga-clad senators were also leaving. When they saw Crassus, the vast majority were careful to move deferentially out of his way. Many smiled; most murmured a respectful greeting as well. Keeping his expression genial, Crassus returned every salutation, no matter how lowly the politician who had made it.
A friendly word of recognition today can become a new friend tomorrow
. As always, his efforts bore rich fruit. In the time it took Crassus to reach the Curia’s front steps, he’d received the promise of two votes in his favour in the upcoming bill on slave ownership, been offered first refusal on the purchase of a newly discovered silver mine in Iberia and had a grovelling request for more time from someone whose debt to him was due the following week. Catching sight of Pompey Magnus nearby, accompanied only by his immediate coterie of followers, Crassus permitted himself a tiny, internal gloat.
You might have come back to Rome on a flying visit to bask in the Senate’s adulation over your so-called victories in Iberia, but you’re still an arrogant young pup. Watch and learn, Pompey. This is how political success is achieved
.

Crassus had been irritated by Pompey from the very time that his star had begun its meteoric rise to prominence. His initial reason was simple. Crassus had had a much harder climb to the top. His ancestors might have included those who had served as censor, consul, and
pontifex maximus
, the highest-ranking priest in Rome, but that hadn’t stopped Crassus’ family fortunes from plummeting during the reign of first Marius, and then Cinna. Times for those who had supported Sulla were bitterly hard for several years. Not for you to lose your father and a brother in the proscriptions, thought Crassus, eyeing Pompey sourly. Not for you to flee Italy with a handful of followers and slaves, there to live in a cave for eight months, like skulking beasts. No, you somehow escaped the Marian bastards’ attentions. Yet for all the way you raised three legions when Sulla returned, and your victories in Africa since, you weren’t the man whose forces won the battle at the Colline Gate; who, with one masterstroke, restored Sulla to power.
I was!

Crassus flashed a practised, false smile at Pompey, who responded similarly. Like the misery of autumn rain, both of them had to accept the other’s presence on centre stage. That didn’t mean they had to like each other but it was important to remain decorous. To appear friendly, even when the direct opposite was the truth. Such is the way of politics, thought Crassus. It’s a way of life that I was born into, Pompey
Magnus
, while you’re nothing but an upstart provincial. He cast a jaundiced eye at the handful of army veterans who’d been waiting for Pompey to emerge. Raucous cheering broke out when they noticed him. It stung Crassus to see it. Few ex-soldiers of his sought him out to praise him to the skies, yet it happened for Pompey all the time.

‘Look at the scumbag! For all his vaunted military credentials, Pompey has made a dog’s dinner of sorting out Sertorius in Iberia. Three damn years it’s taken him so far,’ said a high-pitched voice in his ear.

Startled, Crassus looked around. Recognising Saenius, his major domo, he relaxed. Not many people knew his mind as Saenius did. Twenty years of faithful service meant Crassus trusted the thin, effeminate Latin as no other. ‘Yes, it’s been an overly long campaign,’ he replied acidly.

‘It only looks like ending now because Perperna recently assassinated Sertorius and assumed control of the Marian forces. Everyone knows that Perperna couldn’t organise a hunting party, let alone an army. If it hadn’t been for that piece of good luck, the fool Pompey would have been in Iberia for the rest of his life,’ Saenius hissed. ‘You would’ve finished it long since.’

‘I’d like to think so,’ said Crassus modestly, before adding, ‘I should have been given the command in the first place.’

‘Of course you should.’

The discreet major domo didn’t mention the reason that the Senate had passed his master over, but Crassus brooded over it anyway.
I didn’t have the standing army that Pompey had back then. The Senate could hardly deny the prick his demand to be sent to Iberia
. Crassus wouldn’t admit it to a soul, not even Saenius, but when the next opportunity for serious military advancement presented itself, he needed to seize it. To be utterly ruthless.

Romans liked smooth politicians, who were friends to all. They honoured those who kept an open house, who feasted the people, and who donated a tenth of all they had to Hercules. Crassus knew that he fitted the bill well for all of those qualities, but he had not yet been the recipient, as Pompey had, of the greatest accolade that Rome could award to one of its citizens.

A triumph.

And the public adoration that, like the spring after winter, inevitably followed.

Crassus couldn’t help but feel jealous as he watched the veterans proudly salute Pompey, who responded with gracious nods. Ordering Saenius to follow, he prepared to stalk off into the Forum.

It was then that a man on a lathered horse came clattering across the cobblestones. Indignant cries rose into the air as people scattered to avoid being trampled. Crassus’ gaze fixed on the new arrival like that of a hawk.
What in Hades’ name is going on?
Dragging on the reins, the rider halted on the Graecostasis, the waiting area reserved for dignitaries who wished to address the Senate. Abandoning his mount, he darted forward towards the Curia. ‘Where are the consuls?’ he shouted. ‘Are they still within?’

The crowd of senators recoiled from the man, who was unshaven and wearing a sweat-soaked tunic. A corridor opened before the messenger and, with a curse, he sprinted up the steps. He looked exhausted, thought Crassus. And frightened. He must be carrying urgent news. Crassus stepped into the man’s path, forcing him to come to a juddering halt. ‘They are still inside, I believe,’ he said smoothly.

It took a heartbeat for his words to register. Then the other’s faded blue eyes took him in. ‘My thanks, sir,’ he said, and made to move past.

Turning nimbly, Crassus fell in with him. ‘Where are you from?’

‘Capua.’

‘And you bring important news from there?’

‘Yes, sir,’ came the terse reply.

‘What is it?’

The faded blue eyes regarded him again. ‘I don’t suppose it matters if you hear it first. A band of gladiators has broken out of the ludus in Capua.’

Crassus’ interest soared. ‘The ludus? I know it well. Did many escape?’

‘Only about seventy.’

‘That’s of little consequence,’ declared Crassus in a bluff voice. ‘Hardly a matter to trouble the consuls of Rome with, is it?’

The man gave him a nervous glance, but then his chin firmed. ‘I’d argue the opposite, sir. Within the day, we, the townspeople of Capua, sent a force of more than two hundred men after the bastards. A simple matter to deal with, you’d think. Yet our lads were virtually annihilated. Less than a quarter of them made it home.’

Crassus sucked in his surprise. ‘That’s remarkable,’ he said casually.