Spartacus: The Gladiator (55 page)

Remarkably, even Crixus joined in the roar of approval that followed.

Yet everyone who had witnessed the confrontation knew that the matter had not been settled.

Merely postponed.

Chapter XVIII

IN THE DAYS that followed, Carbo did his best to avoid all human company. He fulfilled his duties as second-in-command of his cohort, marshalling the men together and ensuring that they were all ready to leave the smoking ruins of Forum Annii behind. He followed Egbeo’s orders, keeping the slaves in line as they marched and supervising them as they set up camp each evening. He even persisted with the training of the new recruits, hundreds of whom were joining them every day. But Carbo did it all automatically, because he had to. Inside, his anger and grief knew no bounds. Navio was the one person he confided in, and that was just once, the day Chloris had died.

Navio had gripped his shoulder in sympathy. ‘I know how hard it is,’ he’d said.

Aware that his friend had had terrible things happen to those he cared about, Carbo had nodded and turned his rage further inwards. Locking it deep inside was all that allowed him to continue functioning. Only the sight of Crixus or Lugurix caused his volcanic emotions to overflow. It was fortunate that Navio had been present on each occasion he’d spotted the Gauls. He’d physically held Carbo back. ‘You’ll end up dead.’

‘So what?’ Carbo had hissed. As long as he gained vengeance, he didn’t care. Thoughts of death occupied his every waking moment. Each night, his dreams were the same. Yet some small part of him had retained its sanity, because he’d let Navio restrain him, although he ground his teeth in frustration and rage. He was grateful that the army’s large size now meant that seeing the Gauls was quite a rare occurrence. All the same, the knowledge that they were alive and unpunished ate away at his soul.

One evening some three weeks after the sacking of Forum Annii, he was startled to see Spartacus approaching his tent. Carbo’s memories of the stand-off with Crixus flooded back, and he ducked his head down, hoping that the Thracian was looking for someone else.

‘Carbo.’

Unwillingly, he looked up. ‘Spartacus.’

‘Can I sit?’

‘Of course,’ he replied guiltily. He gestured at the rock where Navio, who was checking on his men, sat. ‘I’d offer you some wine, but I don’t have any. A piece of bread?’

‘I’ve eaten, thank you.’ Spartacus’ grey eyes regarded Carbo keenly. ‘I haven’t seen you for a while.’

‘No. I’ve been busy.’ Carbo cursed his poorly chosen words even as they left his lips.

Spartacus smiled. ‘I know how it is.’

Blushing to the roots of his hair, Carbo looked down.

‘I have some news for you.’

Carbo’s gaze rose slowly. ‘Oh?’

‘Lugurix has had a nasty accident.’

His heart filled with a dark joy. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. This morning, he slipped off a narrow section of the path. He fell about two hundred paces and landed on a ledge just above the river at the gorge’s foot. He didn’t die from the initial fall. From the look of it, he’d broken his back, because he was screaming like a man gut-shot by an arrow. Rescuing him was out of the question, so we had to leave him there. If he’s not dead yet, he will be by morning. A terrible way to die,’ said Spartacus casually.

Carbo’s head was pounding with rage and happiness. ‘He fell?’

Spartacus winked. ‘Well, he had a little help from Atheas. No one else saw, naturally. Crixus won’t suspect a thing.’

Carbo stared at Spartacus, uncomprehending.

‘I understand what Chloris meant to you. I also wanted you to know that I hadn’t forgotten about Lugurix, or what he did. He was always going to be punished. The time had to be right, that’s all.’

A pulse hammered in Carbo’s throat. ‘And Crixus?’

‘I told you before: he’s too important to the rebellion. For now anyway. Can you live with that?’

Carbo swallowed. He was overjoyed that Lugurix had suffered a lingering death, but the sweetness of that knowledge was soured by what Spartacus was asking of him. ‘You want me not to kill him?’

‘That’s right,’ replied Spartacus gravely. He was very aware that while Carbo had little chance of achieving his aim, the desperate, or those who have little desire to live, sometimes succeeded where others failed.

Carbo, unaware of his leader’s perceptiveness, was grateful to be shown such respect. He sat for some moments, thinking. He was conscious that Spartacus couldn’t be kept waiting, but he wasn’t going to agree unless it felt correct. ‘You said “for now” when you mentioned me getting my revenge on Crixus. What do you mean by that?’

The pup has real balls, thought Spartacus wryly. He wouldn’t tolerate this from anyone else, but Carbo had brought him Navio, whose efforts had worked wonders on his men. Because of that, this once he was prepared to be less hard on the lad. ‘If the day ever comes when Crixus decides to break away on his own, you can do what you want.’
When
it comes, Spartacus added silently.

‘Very well,’ said Carbo, looking satisfied. ‘I swear that I will stay my hand until then.’

‘Good.’ Spartacus stood.

‘Thank you for killing Lugurix,’ Carbo blurted, also rising.

‘It’s Atheas you want to be grateful to.’

‘You know what I mean,’ protested Carbo. ‘It means the world to me.’

‘I know it does.’ Spartacus clapped him on the arm. ‘The hurt lessens with time. You’ll see.’

Awe filled Carbo as the Thracian walked away.
He knows just what to say
. Somehow the idea of leaving Crixus unharmed now mattered less than it had. Carbo felt much better for it. Sitting down by the fire, he began to whistle a happy tune that he and Paccius had both been fond of.

Spartacus sat on an open area of the wooded hillside, looking out over the glittering turquoise of the Ionian Sea. Ariadne was beside him. On the flat plain some distance below them, and adjoining the shore, was their camp. It was enormous, sprawling over more ground than that occupied by eight legions, or even ten. There was order to it too, thought Spartacus proudly. The tents were in reasonably straight lines. A stout earthen rampart and deep ditch ran around the perimeter; sentries walked to and fro, patrolling the fortifications. Outside the walls, thousands of men were being trained by their officers: marching up and down in formation, making shield walls and sparring with each other. Slingers stood in lines, firing stones at straw targets a hundred paces away. Squadrons of riders on shaggy mountain horses wheeled and turned together, their spears shining in the bright sun.

‘It’s an army now,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘A damn big one.’
And nearly as good as any I might have raised in Thrace
.

‘It is,’ replied Ariadne. ‘And all thanks to you.’

He pulled her to him. ‘You’ve had a hand in it as well. Men flock to hear Dionysus’ priestess speak. They long to hear the god’s words.’

She smiled her thanks. ‘Maybe. But the forty thousand men who’ve joined us in the months since Forum Annii didn’t come to listen to me. They came to follow you. Spartacus the gladiator. The man who dares to defy Rome. The man who gives slaves hope.’

‘Hope can be a dangerous thing,’ said Spartacus with a frown.

It had been clear that there was something on his mind since dawn.
He’s ready to talk
. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘On the surface, things couldn’t be better. Our numbers have quadrupled. We’ve given Varinius the slip, and found somewhere remote to live for the winter. It’s fertile here, in the “arch of Italy’s boot”, and the farms and towns to raid are plentiful. Metapontum alone provided us with two months’ worth of grain. Heraclea was just as rich. Thurii is ours for the taking if we want it. Hundreds of wild horses have been captured and broken, to use as cavalry mounts. Pulcher has more than a score of smiths making weapons from dawn until dusk. Slaves are still coming in their hundreds to join us.’ He gave her a brittle smile. ‘Even Crixus has been quiet of late.’

‘Ever since the fight at Forum Annii, he’s done his own thing, hasn’t he?’

‘The shitbag is probably recruiting supporters so that when the time comes, as many men as possible will follow him, but at least he’s not constantly looking for a fight. Despite that bonus, we’re still living in a dream world.’

Ariadne was no longer enjoying the warm sunshine. ‘Rome hasn’t forgotten us, you mean.’

‘That’s right,’ he said grimly. ‘This might seem like paradise, but it won’t last much longer than the snow on the mountains to the north. Sure as the melt comes in spring, the legions will come in search of us.’ His lips gave an ironic twist. ‘Hannibal survived in this area for more than a decade. He was perhaps the finest general in history, and he outwitted Rome at every turn. But the stubborn bastards didn’t ever admit that they’d been defeated by him – even after Cannae. They simply recruited more men and fought on. It took nearly a generation, yet Hannibal was defeated in the end.’ Spartacus sighed. ‘And he had professional soldiers. I have slaves.’

‘They are no longer slaves,’ said Ariadne sharply. ‘They are free men. All of them.’

‘True enough,’ he admitted. ‘But they are not legionaries.’

‘They have been trained mercilessly for months – as recruits to the legions are,’ she countered.

‘Maybe so. Yet most of them didn’t come into the world with the warlike attitude that is every Roman’s birthright. They’re not combat veterans either. When Rome sends its finest men against us, as it inevitably must, will my soldiers stand and fight? Or will they run?’ Weirdly, he felt relief at having voiced his greatest worry.

Ariadne pointed at the myriad of figures on the plain below. ‘Those men love you!’ she cried. ‘They would follow you to the ends of the earth.’

Pride filled Spartacus’ eyes. ‘You’re right. I do them a disservice. But the outcome will be the same. Even if we beat the Romans another time, and another, they will not have been defeated. A man cannot kill all the ants in a colony. It’s not possible.’ His expression grew calculating.
Yet this is also the hard path that I would have chosen in Thrace
.

Ariadne felt her heart begin to race. They hadn’t spoken about leaving Italy since their conversation months before, but it was filling her mind right now. His too, from the look of it. But she would not be the one to mention it first. Spartacus did not yet know that she was pregnant. He mustn’t believe that she was trying to influence him.

He cocked his head at her. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I was wondering what was in your mind to do,’ she said evasively.

‘I do not fear dying in battle,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But if there was another path to take – a path that did not avoid confrontation with our enemies – then I would strongly consider it.’

Ariadne waited.
Please guide him, Dionysus
.

‘It’s not as if the Romans will stand by and let us march past to the Alps,’ Spartacus said with a harsh laugh. ‘They’ll place every damn legion they have in our way.’ That image made Ariadne feel physically sick. ‘If our army can pass those tests, well …’ Spartacus hesitated before saying, ‘Outside Italy we can truly be free.’

Ariadne wanted to cheer.

‘Crixus will not follow me, of course. He was never going to anyway. But when they hear what I have to say, I think that Castus and Gannicus will. They have learned that I am a better general than their fellow countryman.’

‘After the way you’ve organised the army, only a fool would think otherwise.’

He glanced at her quizzically. ‘You’ve said little about my suggestion, yet you were the one to mention it some time ago. Do you still think it’s a good one?’

She smiled. ‘I do. Rome is far too great a quarry for us to bring it down. I also think that you are destined to return to Thrace. That’s why you were pointing east in your dream.’ That’s what you want to think, chided her conscience. Ariadne harshly quelled the thought.

He looked pleased.

I must tell him now
. Ariadne squeezed his hand. ‘There is something else.’

He raised an eyebrow.