The Parthian (29 page)

In the middle of the multitude was the Roman camp that had stood on the slopes of Vesuvius, dismantled and rebuilt here. Guards stood at the main entrance, which was flanked by wooden watchtowers. On the top of one stood the impish Akmon, who immediately climbed down the ladder when he saw our column.

He raced out of the entrance waving his arms.

‘You can’t bring those horses in here, we’re too crowded as it is. The rest of your lot is camped about a mile away, due west, close to the river.’ He pointed at me. ‘Spartacus wants a report off you before you go.’

I told Nergal to take the men and find the rest of the cavalry, while I dismounted and led Remus into the ‘Roman’ camp. As before, all the tents were arranged in neat lines. Akmon walked beside me along the central avenue towards the command tent. He was clearly unhappy. 

‘Too many people. We won’t be able to stay here long.’

‘How many people?’ I asked.

‘Last count, over thirty thousand and more coming in each day. I heard about your little spat with the Romans, your man filled us in on it. Well done, should give us a bit of time.’

‘The camp seems orderly,’ I noted.

He laughed. ‘Of course, Spartacus only lets Thracians and Germans in. Keeps the rest outside.’

‘And Crixus?’ I asked.

He spat on the ground. ‘He gathers all the Gauls to him. He’s chafing at the bit. He wasn’t best pleased that you won a bit of glory.’

‘I can imagine.’

Spartacus stood at the entrance to his tent, which stood around twelve feet in height. He steeped forward and embraced me in an iron grip, slapping me hard on the back as he released me.

‘I knew I could rely on you. Godarz told me all about it. Come inside and have a drink to clear the dust from your throat. Thank you, Akmon.’

His second-in-command saluted and stomped off as we stepped inside, to be greeted by Claudia, Diana and Gallia, the beautiful Gallia, who all stood applauding me. I blushed, not because of their applause but I could once again clasp eyes on the blond-haired beauty who filled my thoughts. Spartacus put an arm round my shoulder.

‘Leave the boy alone, Claudia, and pour us all some wine.’

Gallia strolled over to me, and jabbed a finger hard into my ribs. 

‘Don’t ever do that again,’ she hissed.

I was mortified. ‘What?’

‘Leave without saying goodbye. Don’t they have manners in Parthia?’

‘I promise that one day I will take you there and you can judge for yourself.’ I gazed into her blue eyes and totally forget all else there. She smiled and titled her head slightly.

‘I will look forward to that, Prince Pacorus.’

‘Enough,’ barked Spartacus, ‘we have a war to win first.’

I stayed with them until dusk, drinking, eating and talking. I liked these people, and wanted nothing more than to be with them always. Though they were technically under my command, Gallia and Diana stayed in the camp and I was glad for that: at least they had some sort of protection if it was attacked, for I doubted that the Romans would be long delayed. As the sun sank slowly as a red ball in the western sky I walked Remus to the main entrance with Gallia by my side. Spartacus had told me that he was riding into the mountains tomorrow and he wanted me to accompany him, but he would say no more.

‘Do you like fighting?’ asked Gallia.

‘That’s a strange question.’

‘Nergal and Godarz say that you are good at it, so I assume that you enjoy it.’

‘Have my men been gossiping behind my back?’

‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘I asked them a question and they answered. I can be very persuasive.’

I did not doubt that. I would promise her the world if she but asked.

‘Well?’ she prompted.

I shrugged. ‘I suppose I was bred for war.’

She was outraged, her nostrils flaring. ‘Bred!’

‘The training of Parthian nobles is arduous. From a baby until I was five my time was spent with my mother and other women of the court, and away from my father. Thereafter I was schooled in running, swimming, horse care, hunting on foot and horseback, fighting with the sword, throwing the spear and javelin, and above all archery. I rode and shot the bow every day for fifteen years. Then, at the age of twenty, I entered the army proper as a member of my father’s bodyguard. So, after all that effort, I hope that I am reasonably competent at the military arts.’

‘The Romans have farms where they breed slaves,’ she said. ‘Places where masters oversee the mating of selected pairs, and in the arena Romans watch chosen pairs butcher each other for their entertainment. It’s disgusting.’

‘Yes it is,’ I said. 

She turned and faced me, determination etched on her face. ‘ I will never be a slave again. Promise me that if the worst happens you will kill me rather than let me be taken.’

‘What?’ I was horrified.

Her face showed steely resolve. ‘Promise me!’

‘I promise,’ I replied, though I also promised myself that I would also kill myself immediately afterwards. Where she went, I would follow. She kissed me lightly on the cheek. 

‘Thank you.’

Having made such a solemn promise I should have gone to bed with a heavy heart, but all I could think about was her kiss. 

The next day I saddled Remus early and waited for Spartacus. He came an hour after dawn accompanied by a man I did not recognise, but whom Spartacus informed me was a local guide who knew the area. I carried a waterskin and food in a saddlebag, plus my sword, dagger, bow and a quiver full of arrows. I also took Nergal and twenty other horsemen with us; who knows what we would encounter?

Spartacus was in high spirits as our horses wound their way up the mountain via narrow passes. The lower slopes were covered with shrubs, but as we climbed they gave way to chestnut and strawberry trees. These in turn gave way to magnificent beeches with trunks covered in lichens. I had never seen such lush vegetation, a far cry from the parched deserts of Parthia. Huge grey boulders jutted out from the green and yellow foliage, while through the treetops I saw goshawks flying overhead and heard the tapping of a woodpecker. It took us two hours of threading through wooded ravines and along and across foaming streams before we reached the summit, riding out onto a rock terrace that presented a stunning view of a wide, green valley below, one that extended as far as the eye could see.

It was a vast green plateau flanked by mountains, with white dots that were villas sprinkled across its extent. Below us, nestling on the plateau a few miles from the mountain we were looking down from, was a walled town. We had a perfect view of its layout of equally sized rectangular blocks of buildings, the whole bisected by straight roads. As usual there were four gates, with a main road running up to and through the town and across the plateau, disappearing into the distance. The lower slopes of the mountains were covered in trees, and the plateau itself was studied with olive groves. This was rich country indeed.

‘Beautiful, is it not?’ sighed Spartacus.

‘Yes, lord,’ I answered.

‘That town is Forum Annii, so my guide tells me. And in two days Crixus and his Gauls are going to take it.’

I was horrified. ‘They will burn it to the ground.’

‘Unhappily, you are right, but he’s been wanting to blood his men for some time now, and I would rather him and his men kill Romans than each other, or other members of my army,’ he looked pointedly at me. ‘The fact is, Pacorus, that your timely triumph gnaws away at Crixus, so I will give him what he wants, a chance to kill Romans.’

‘The man is an animal,’ I spat.

Spartacus laughed. ‘So am I, at least to a Roman, and so are you, my friend.’ It was the first time he had called me friend, and I was at that moment immensely proud. Whatever Spartacus was, he certainly knew how to win men over. ‘The point is that he is idle and angry and has six thousand Gauls who are likewise unoccupied. Besides, the Roman army will be here soon enough so some battle training will come in useful.’

After a brief rest and food to fill our stomachs we rode back to camp. Spartacus called a council of war in the early evening. Present were myself, Spartacus, Nergal, Burebista, Castus, Cannicus, Akmon, Crixus, Oenomaus and Dumnorix. Crixus ignored me throughout, but was delighted when Spartacus revealed his future plans.

‘We need to put some distance between us and Rome, and that means we have to head south, to the Gulf of Tarentum. There we can build and train the army for the march north next spring. Though Pacorus has delayed the advance of the Roman army,’ he nodded towards me, ‘there is no doubt that it will resume its march towards us. Therefore, we need to get over the mountain, onto the plateau and then head south. But before we can move we have to take the Roman town, Forum Annii, which stands in our way. Crixus, I want your men to take it.’

It was the first time that I saw the Gaul smile when he heard this, a giant leer with his eyes bulging at the prospect of plunder. ‘You can rely on us,’ he said, his men slapping him on the back by way of congratulations.

‘Now remember,’ continued Spartacus to us all, ‘the road we travelled down from Vesuvius goes round the mountain and leads to a pass that gives access to the high plateau. It will take two or three days for the army and its animals to get there, but only a few hours for Crixus to get his men up the mountain.’

‘What garrison does the town have?’ asked Castus.

‘Who cares about the garrison?’ said Crixus before Spartacus could reply, ‘they will die along with the rest.’

I looked at Spartacus but there was no expression on his face. 

‘Listen,’ said Spartacus to Crixus. ‘You will need scaling ladders and maybe a battering ram. There are plenty of trees on the slopes, so make use of all the wood and get your men ready. They are to attack Forum Annii the day after tomorrow. Any questions?’

There were none. 

The next day Crixus and his men went about cutting down wood with gusto, no doubt rehearsing on trees what they would be doing to people the day after. The Gauls were full of enthusiasm, I gave them that, but their coarse language and dishevelled appearance made me shudder. I went to see Castus during the morning as Godarz and Nergal sent out cavalry patrols to the river and allocated new recruits to companies. We had increased our number of horsemen by a hundred, but there was no time to train them in tactics or the use of the bow, so they were given a spear and told to obey their commanders. They wouldn’t be any use in battle, but if they survived the march to the sea they could be turned into cavalrymen. 

Castus was in his usual good spirits, the more so because his command had been enlarged markedly by the march through Campania.

‘Four thousand Germans now, Pacorus,’ he said, proudly, ‘though only half have decent weapons. The rest have clubs and wooden spears. Still, it’s a start.’

‘Indeed it is,’ I was pleased for him. He was a good man and his men were under tighter control than Crixus’ Gauls.

‘There’s over thirty thousand in camp,’ he said. ‘Did you know?’

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘Southern Italy is nothing but farms and herds of animals, and who are the people who work in the fields and tend to the herds? Slaves.’

‘And gladiators,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘Them too.’

I rode to the Silarus River that afternoon with Gafarn, Gallia, Godarz and Diana. For some reason I was feeling morose and wanted some pleasant company. Its waters were black and fast flowing, and the sky was heaped with dark clouds. It was still warm, but the days were no longer hot and the nights were getting cooler. The Gauls had done a poor job destroying the bridge (why was I not surprised), and though the parapets had been knocked into the river only two of the five arches had been wholly demolished. 

‘It won’t take the Romans long to rebuild it,’ Godarz must have been reading my mind.

‘How long do you think we’ve got?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘Two days at the most.’

I dismounted and walked over to a group of soldiers guarding the bridge. There were ten of them, all wearing mail shirts, helmets and carrying Roman shields, spears and swords. Thracians, I assumed by their long black hair and lack of hostility towards me. 

‘Any movement on the far bank?’ I asked their commander.

‘Not till now,’ he said, pointing his spear behind me. I turned to see a group of horsemen galloping down the roads towards the bridge. Their green shields indicated that we had met before. 

‘Gafarn,’ I shouted, ‘get Gallia and Diana away from here.’

Gallia was indignant. ‘Why? They cannot fly across the river.’

‘I’ll show you why,’ I shouted, vaulting into Remus’ saddle and pulling my bow from its case. The Romans slowed their mounts when they reached the bridge, the horses walking onto the bridge and then halting, I strung an arrow and let it fly. It hit the foremost rider square in the chest, knocking his out of his saddle. The Thracians cheered wildly, though as I strung another arrow I saw a look of horror on Diana’s face and Gallia had gone deathly pale.

I turned to Gafarn. ‘Now get them out of here and back to camp.’ He grabbed the reins of their horses and led them away. The Romans turned and fled, though not before I had knocked another out of his saddle with a shot that hit the rearmost rider in the middle of his back.  I ordered Godarz to ride to Spartacus’ headquarters to inform him of the news, and watched as Gallia and Diana rode off, while the Thracians looked decidedly nervous.

‘Don’t worry,’ I told them, ‘it’s just a scouting party.’

The remaining Romans halted a safe distance from the bridge, and they were soon joined by a score of others riding hard towards them. One was wearing an officer’s helmet with a rich red plume and a red cloak that billowed behind him. I nudged Remus onto the bridge and walked him to where the first arch had been knocked into the river. The Romans, stationary now, looked on as I held my bow aloft and then slowly and deliberately placed it back in its case. Then I waited. Remus flicked his white tail nonchalantly. The Roman officer suddenly kicked his heels into his horse’s sides and galloped towards me. He halted his mount on the far side of the damaged bridge and took off his helmet. I recognised him instantly.