Laughter broke out at once. Crassus glared, but he had lost the initiative.
‘Are you not rich and greedy enough already? Let us not forget how you preyed like a vulture on those who fell foul of “the Butcher”. As a consequence, your riches are immense, but they are also stained with blood,’ said Lentulus loudly.
‘Any purchases that I may have made were entirely legal,’ Crassus declared. But it was too late. Everywhere he looked now, he saw revulsion on his peers’ faces. Even Caesar had moved a step away. ‘They were all legal, I say!’
‘Maybe they were,’ retorted Gellius, ‘but you didn’t see us queuing up to buy those properties!’
Utterly furious, but now powerless, Crassus bit his lip.
In a clever move, the consuls did not address the floor for a few moments. They let the senators’ outrage at Crassus dominate the mood. Then Gellius, who was the better speaker, rose from his chair. He took two steps forward, to the edge of the dais, and waited.
The hubbub abated.
‘Lentulus and I have made our mistakes, but we are still the elected consuls of Rome. Is that not true?’
A low rumble of agreement.
‘And, until recently, we have performed our duties to the satisfaction of the majority, have we not?’
‘You have,’ called out a voice.
No one said another word.
‘For all our faults, we are both possessed of Roman virtus. It is indeed a scandal that Spartacus has defeated so many of our armies. It will not happen again! Lentulus and I have brought our legions together. Reinforcements made necessary by our problems have been recruited. The remnants of Longinus’ command is to be brought south to join with ours, making a combined force of more than four legions. Auxiliaries are being sought out in Cisalpine Gaul as I speak. Word has been sent to Gaul and Iberia that we need horsemen. In a matter of six to eight weeks, we will have an army that numbers more than thirty thousand men.’
Crassus wasn’t beaten yet. ‘What if Spartacus seeks battle again before that time?’
‘We will meet him on ground of our choosing, and wipe him from the face of the earth. This I swear to Jupiter, Minerva and Mars,’ declared Gellius to loud shouts of approbation.
‘And if, as some suspect, he leaves Italy?’
‘Lentulus will remain here, to raise more legions and to safeguard the Republic. I shall track the slave rabble by land or sea with our armies. He won’t get far. When I find them, I shall destroy them completely. If by some small chance Spartacus reaches Thrace, I can unite with Lucullus’ forces there. Between us, we shall smash him into pieces. Either way, we shall have victory!’
‘Victory!’ cried the senators. ‘Victory!’
In that moment, Crassus knew that his opportunity had been lost. He wasn’t above laying one more baited trap, however. ‘Very well. You will defeat Spartacus together?’
‘We will,’ the consuls declared.
‘May Jupiter be your witness,’ said Caesar, giving them a pointed stare.
Gellius’ blood was up. ‘May he strike me down if we fail!’
Lentulus looked less than pleased with his colleague’s fervour, but he couldn’t back down either. ‘I make a vow to Jupiter Optimus Maximus that we shall succeed.’
‘Excellent,’ said Crassus with false enthusiasm. ‘The Republic will be triumphant once more!’
The unsuspecting senators were delighted. They cheered and whistled like an excited crowd watching a gladiatorial contest.
Crassus moved closer to Caesar. ‘Thank you for speaking when you did,’ he said from the side of his mouth. ‘Gellius fell into your snare without even noticing.’
Caesar inclined his head in recognition. ‘But Lentulus knows he’s been manoeuvred into a corner. He looks as if he’s swallowed a bowl of hemlock.’
‘What do I care?’ whispered Crassus. ‘If by some miracle the fools succeed, the problem of Spartacus will have been dealt with. If they fail, they will not have a leg to stand on. No general can be defeated twice and stay in office, especially when he has taken a sacred oath in front of six hundred of his fellows.’
‘It was a clever move. You turned the situation around nicely.’
Crassus demurred politely, but inside he was exultant. If anything, what had transpired was better than if he’d achieved his aims that day. The legions in Italy were shrunken, battered and demoralised. Taking charge of them and attempting to defeat Spartacus would be to risk disaster.
This way, he had all eventualities covered and now he would have time to continue planning his best course of action. One thing was certain, thought Crassus. The Republic needed more soldiers than it currently had on its home territory. Pompey had a good number of legions in Iberia. So too did Lucullus, in Pontus. If either man were recalled to defend the Republic, they would not hand over the command of their troops to anyone. They would want all the glory. The glory that should be mine. Crassus decided at once to talk to Caepio, the sole survivor of Spartacus’ munus. He would provide a strong rallying point for any legions Crassus might raise. Men would flock to serve under him.
Crassus’ mind tracked back to the time he had fought for Sulla. Many of the soldiers who had fought for the Butcher in the civil war would still be alive, tending the little plots of land that had been granted to them upon their discharge. Sulla had known well that nothing made a veteran of twenty years’ service happier than to receive exactly what he’d been promised on the day of his enlistment. Crassus thought of Pompey, and scowled. That prick is good at honouring his soldiers’ discharge, just as Sulla was. If the truth be known, he hadn’t done as well by his legionaries in the past, but fortunately there hadn’t been that many of them. Sulla’s, on the other hand, numbered in their thousands. They will remember me, the man who won the battle of the Colline Gate, the man who was Sulla’s loyal captain. A popular saying came to mind, making him smile. ‘Everyone who has a soldier’s heart remains a soldier, even if his body has grown old,’ Crassus said softly. ‘Nor will they refuse the handsome wages I offer.’
It was time to set Saenius another task. His major domo had done much already to try and recruit spies within the slave army, but the day’s developments meant that there was plenty more to be done. Raising new legions took time, and although he didn’t yet have the jurisdiction to do so, Crassus was sure that he could implement the first steps of the lengthy process. With a decent number of veterans, he would have a nucleus around which he could build an army when the time came.
Crassus knew in his bones that the consuls would soon meet Spartacus in battle. Nothing that he had seen today told him anything other than Lentulus and Gellius would lose. When they did, he would seize his chance.
We will meet again, Spartacus, thought Crassus. This time, you will learn the lesson that I should have taught you the first time we met. We Romans have no equals, and you are nothing but a savage. A talented, intelligent savage, perhaps, but a savage nonetheless. When your army has finally been ground into dust and you are choking out your last breath, you will understand that.
How I look forward to that day. I will take the credit for saving the Republic, and the masses will love me — for saving their lives and their livelihoods. That upstart Pompey can forget being the most popular man in Rome. In taverns and shops, on every street corner, the citizens will talk of no one but Crassus. My fame assured, I will be held in the same regard as men such as Sulla and Marius — for ever.
Chapter VI
Near the foot of the Alps, Cisalpine Gaul
Ariadne woke with a headache. Stretching, she felt a crick in her neck as well. She sighed. Her poor sleep hadn’t just been because of the baby’s activity. Her rest had not been helped by a never-ending, hideous nightmare, in which she could not find Spartacus on a road that had been decorated with a crucified man every forty paces. It was a huge relief to see him breathing heavily alongside her. She studied his features in a concerted effort to forget the gory images of the dream. It worked. With the tip of a finger, she traced the faint scar that ran off his straight nose on to his left cheek. She touched his square, determined jaw and his brown hair, close-cropped in the Roman military fashion. Ariadne was admiring his well-muscled, wiry torso when he gave a violent twitch and muttered something. At once her enjoyment soured.