The Parthian (35 page)

‘Gallia doesn’t take kindly to orders,’

‘I wasn’t talking about Gallia.’

‘Weren’t you?’ she teased. ‘I understand that you want to protect her, but you can’t put her in a cage. Her father made that mistake, as did Cornelius Lentulus, and you know what happened to him.’

I did not want to have this conversation. It was as though Claudia was peering into my soul and I found the experience unsettling. I was saved by Spartacus, who ordered us to be seated. Claudia smiled mischievously at me as I took my seat beside Godarz. Around the table also sat Spartacus, Akmon, Castus, Cannicus, Crixus and Dumnorix. 

Spartacus started. ‘We have won a great victory. Three Roman legions destroyed and thousands of their soldiers dead, the rest scattered. Once we have finished collecting what weapons and equipment we can use, we will move south into Lucania and Bruttium for the winter.’

‘What garrisons are there, lord?’ I asked.

‘I do not know. We will find out when we get there.’

Godarz rose. ‘May I speak, lord?’

‘Who are you? said Crixus, menacingly. Clearly his good mood had its limits.

‘My name is Godarz and I was a slave for many years at Nola. But my duties required me to travel throughout southern Italy and so I have a certain knowledge of these parts.’

‘Please enlighten us,’ said Spartacus.

‘There are two large towns that have garrisons, Thurii and Metapontum, and both are walled.’

‘How large are the garrisons?’ asked Castus.

‘I do not know,’ replied Godarz. ‘But they are garrison troops, second-rate, not like soldiers of the legions.’

‘We took Forum Annii,’ said Crixus, ‘we can take these two places.’

‘Metapontum is worth taking, lord,’ added Godarz. ‘It is very rich port and the land around it is very fertile, with many farms and more potential recruits for your army.’

‘Thank you, Godarz,’ said Spartacus. ‘We will move in five days’ time.’

‘To where?’ said Crixus. 

‘Which is closer, Godarz,’ asked Spartacus, ‘Thurii or Metapontum?’

‘Metapontum,’ replied Godarz.

‘Then we march to Metapontum.’

The next day, Nergal and Burebista returned with carts loaded with the fruits of victory. In their haste to destroy us, the Romans had not built a fortified camp but had just left their baggage and mules under a small guard three miles behind their army. These had been abandoned in the general rout, which meant that my horsemen came across hundreds of mules and a few dozen horses, many wandering free over the plateau, and dozens of carts that a Roman legion used. The carts came in very useful and were loaded with the legions’ supplies, which included heavy sacks of grain, entrenching tools and other implements, baskets, cooking utensils and hundreds of leather tents. To these were added cloaks, tunics and even small forges. It was a rich haul, and when the cavalry returned it reminded me of a large caravan that Hatra was used to seeing every day. Three hundred carts winding their way into camp was certainly an impressive sight.

It took three days of hard toil for the captured equipment to be distributed equally among the army. I found it rather bizarre, but Spartacus was insistent that all should benefit from our victory. ‘For if we fail, all will share equally in our defeat,’ he told me. He did, though, give me most of the horses, which meant I now had over a thousand horses and several hundred carts, plus mules to pull them. I also acquired a large commander’s tent similar to the one Spartacus resided in, though it was bulky and large and required several men to put it up. I had it stashed away on a wagon until we found a more permanent camp. Gallia and Diana shared a tent but Nergal had also acquired a Roman officer’s tent and had moved in Praxima. All three women trained every day with their bows under the watchful eye of Gafarn, and I had to admit that their archery and riding skills had improved markedly. Gallia still retained a slight aloofness towards me that I found enticing yet frustrating.

On the day the army moved south I asked her and Diana to ride with me as we followed the course of the River Aciris. I left Byrd behind with a party of scouts to make sure that no Romans followed us and attacked our rearguard, but in truth it appeared that, for the moment at least, the Romans had disappeared from the world. We left the high limestone mountains behind and entered a wide verdant plain to follow the course of the river. Winter was approaching now and the air was cooler, and already snow was capping the mountains. The army retained its discipline as it marched south, the Thracians in the van, followed by the Germans and Crixus’ Gauls in the rear. The cavalry rode ahead, partly to scout the route and also to avoid the dirt, dust and general unpleasantness of trailing in the wake of a large body of people and beasts. I felt like an eagle that had plucked a mighty fish from the river as I rode next to Gallia. Were it not for her long blond hair she could have passed for one of my horsemen, with her newly acquired mail shirt, boots, leggings, bow, helmet, quiver and sword. She also had a dagger tucked into the top of her right boot, a gift from Praxima no doubt. Despite her warlike garb she still looked gorgeous, but then she would look alluring dressed only in a sack. Behind us rode Diana, Gafarn, Godarz and nine hundred horseman, spare horses and our carts, while Nergal and fifty men were scouting ahead. He had taken Praxima with him. Diana and Gafarn had become close and to be fair her soft features, kind nature and large brown eyes seemed to invite a man to protect her. She did not have the inner steel that Gallia possessed, but I thought that she was amiable and extremely likeable. She did have strength, though I did not see it until the time of adversity. She and Gafarn were laughing, about what I could not tell.

‘Why don’t you amuse us all, Gafarn,’ I said.

‘I was merely telling Diana of how you were nearly married off to the Princess Axsen of Babylon.’

Gallia turned and looked at me but said nothing.

‘I’m sure Diana doesn’t want to know about things that have no bearing on the here and now,’ I said, slightly annoyed.

‘On the contrary, highness,’ said Gafarn, ‘taking all things into account, I would reason that getting captured by the Romans saved you from a worse fate.’

‘I was not going to marry the Princess of Babylon,’ I insisted. I glanced at Gallia. ‘The person I marry shall be my choice, and mine alone.’

‘Of course, highness,’ retorted Gafarn, ‘as long as your mother and father say so.’

‘Be quiet,’ I ordered.

We rode on in silence for a while before Gallia said to me. ‘What is she like?’

‘Who?’

‘The Princess of Babylon.’

I shrugged. ‘I do not know, I’ve never met her.’

‘She’s fat,’ said Gafarn. ‘Not beautiful like you, lady.’

‘Why should I care what she looks like?’ asked Gallia.

‘Just to reassure you, lady, that she is no rival to you.’

‘Is she a rival?’ queried Gallia, mischievously.

‘No, lady,’ he relied, ‘for Prince Pacorus has eyes only for you.’

I halted Remus and turned him to face Gafarn. ‘That’s enough, Gafarn. I don’t want to hear any more about the Princess Axsen.’

Gafarn nodded his head gravely. ‘Of course, highness.’

‘And you’re embarrassing the Lady Gallia,’ I added. 

‘Really? I thought I was embarrassing you.’

The lighthearted mood was interrupted by a rider from Spartacus, who wished to see me. I found him under a beech tree sitting on the ground with Claudia. The army tramped by them, soldiers who looked like Romans marching six abreast and kept in line by slaves turned centurions wielding those wretched vine canes. I had to admit, though, that the army conducted itself in a professional manner, testimony to the leadership of Spartacus.

‘Apulia,’ he said to me.

‘Lord?’

‘Apulia, Pacorus. A region rich in olive farms and slaves. A runaway slave was brought to me earlier and he told me that he had been working on a large farm in Apulia and he gave me an idea. I want you to raid into the region and see if you can get us some recruits. We march to Metapontum, but cavalry is no use in a siege. Therefore, take your horse into Apulia and give the Romans a taste of what they have done to the lands of other peoples.’

‘You mean fire and sword,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘Fat Romans make easy prey.’

And so it was that we rode into Apulia, nine hundred horsemen divided into three columns. I led the first, Nergal the second and Burebista the third. I left Godarz, Rhesus and the rest of the new recruits to the cavalry with the army, as I thought his knowledge would be useful to Spartacus, and I wanted to leave a cadre of horse behind because slaves were still coming in, even during our march.

Apulia, located along Italy’s eastern coast, was a strange land, very different from Lucania and Campania. It consisted mainly of flat land divided into huge agricultural estates. The towns in the area were few and poor. We bypassed one called Silvium on the Appian Way and struck north. Any villas we came across we burned and we released the slaves from their wretched barracks, which were invariably well away from where their masters lived. These were large, square stone buildings with thatched roofs that had small windows with grills in the walls for ventilation. Men, women and children were kept under lock and key and chained to each other during the hours of darkness, before being released in the morning to work another day under the lashes of the overseers in the fields. The latter, slaves themselves, earned their masters’ goodwill by administering brutality towards those in their charge. As their reward they were given their own accommodation, which was little more than a hovel next to the slave barracks. By such methods did a few Romans control the lives of thousands. One morning we came across a long column of slaves being herded to pick olives, the main crop of the region.

The morning was overcast and windless, and the only sounds that could be heard were the curses of the overseers and the crack of their lashes across scarred backs. At first the overseers thought that we were Roman cavalry and started to shove the slaves aside to make way for us, but I halted the column in front of them to block their route. We disabused them of the notion that we were their friends and freed the slaves, and as I was in a charitable mood I let the overseers go, though they were promptly killed on the spot by those they had formally terrorised.

Most of those liberated from the fields were told to head into Lucania, towards the port of Metapontum. I reasoned that even if the port had not fallen to Spartacus there would be thousands of his men in the countryside around it, and the slaves would run into them sooner or later. Most seemed happy to be free, though I noticed that some just stood there after the overseers had been killed, unsure what to do. Gallia told me that they had probably been slaves from childhood and had no concept of freedom. Others formed themselves into bands and declared that they would not be joining the ‘gladiator Spartacus’, but would take to the hills and live off the land instead. I doubted whether they would survive for more than three months before being hunted down and nailed to crosses. However, they were in the minority and as most slaves who worked the land were captives taken in war, I reckoned that Spartacus would be receiving thousands of valuable reinforcements from those freed by our raids. 

Any towns that we neared shut their gates and their inhabitants cowered behind their walls, though as my column numbered only three hundred riders the fear that we struck into the enemy’s hearts was out of all proportion to our size. And thus it was that as we were riding near the town of Rubi, along deserted roads and empty fields, we came across the camp of a slave-hunting gang pitched near a field of giant olive trees, which must have been thirty feet high and had thick trunks. The gang saw us coming but barely acknowledged us, no doubt thinking that we were a Roman patrol. When we got nearer I could see that there was about a dozen gang members, unshaven, dressed in filthy tunics with an assortment of weapons dangling from their belts or in their hands. Their horses were tethered under an olive tree, with a cart and two mules also tied to it off to one side. Dangling from the cart was a collection of shackles and branding irons, the tools of their trade. 

We halted and their leader, a fat, ugly man with a bald head, ambled over. Behind me my men sat in silence on their horses. I looked past him to where a naked girl was being held down by four of his associates, each one holding one of her arms and feet. She was struggling fiercely but without success as they forced her legs apart. A fifth man walked over from where the others were sitting around a fire and stood over her. He removed his tunic and stood naked with his back to us.

‘Don’t see many soldiers in these parts,’ said their leader, looking up at me.

‘What’s going on here?’ I asked him, nodding towards where the naked man had now knelt and was about to rape the girl. They had stuffed some sort of rag in her mouth to stop her screams, but she was still writhing frantically in a futile effort to stop her imminent violation. 

He looked round at the commotion behind him. ‘Oh, her. Runaway slave. Mostly when we catch runaways we brand them and return them to their owners, but this one’s pretty so we thought we’d use her for some recreational duties. We’re just about to start.’

I heard a hiss and saw an arrow slam into the back of the naked man, who collapsed forward onto the pinioned girl. I turned and saw Gallia with her bow in her hand, who was reaching into her quiver to string another arrow. Everyone was so surprised by what had happened that nobody moved. The men holding the girl just stared in disbelief at their dead comrade with an arrow in his back sprawled in front of them, while their leader’s mouth opened and closed like that of a fish out of water as he took in what had happened. Then another of Gallia’s arrows hit one of his men and he himself drew his sword. Behind him his men released the girl and grabbed their weapons, while those around the fire sprang to their feet and likewise armed themselves.  They were quick, but my men were quicker and Gafarn in particular was one of the fastest archers in Parthia. He had dropped two of the gang before they had a chance to draw their swords. Beside him Diana released her bowstring and saw her arrow go through the mouth of a gang member who was charging at us with a spear. I smiled in admiration then drew my own bow, strung an arrow and pointed it at the gang leader. He stood, frozen to the spot as his men were killed quickly around him. One of the gang members did not try to fight but instead attempted to flee, running away through the olive trees. He ran like the wind and I thought he would escape as Garfarn aimed an arrow at him. I kept my gaze on their leader as Garfarn shot and my men cheered as the arrow found its mark.