‘Breaking the army up now would only make the Romans’ task easier. When they hear that we have turned around and marched south, the consuls might join forces. I wouldn’t like to be facing that army with anything less than our full strength.’
Always the shrewd one, thought Spartacus. ‘And after that?’
‘We’ll find a suitable time,’ replied Gannicus in a sly tone. He held up a warning finger. ‘But pull any more tricks like the one about Lucullus again, and I’m leaving with every man who will follow me.’
‘And me!’ added Castus.
‘You can do what you like,’ growled Spartacus. You’re more trouble than you’re worth. ‘But until that point we’ll continue to fight as one army?’
The Gauls exchanged a look, and then a nod. ‘Yes,’ said Gannicus. ‘But we decide on any strategy together.’
‘Fine.’ You both know that I am the best tactician. Spartacus’ mind was filled again with one burning question. ‘Who told you?’
‘It’s annoying you not knowing, eh?’ asked Castus, gloating. He glanced at Gannicus. ‘Shall we tell him?’
‘I don’t see why not. He’ll work it out soon enough.’
‘Arnax,’ revealed Castus.
‘Arnax?’ Of course. ‘He was also there in Mutina.’
‘That’s right. He heard every word that your Roman lapdogs did. It didn’t take much for him to tell me. A bit of friendship, a couple of hot meals. A coin or two. He sang like a songbird. A good lad, he is.’
‘I see,’ said Spartacus in an offhand tone. Inside, he was raging. What a stupid mistake! When he’d told Carbo not to speak to anyone, he hadn’t even thought of the boy. With an effort, he reined in his bubbling fury.
‘I would watch your back from now on,’ said Castus.
Gannicus snickered.
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Me? Threaten you?’ Castus’ tone was mocking.
‘Piss off,’ said Spartacus. ‘Unless you want a fight right now.’
Castus hawked and spat. ‘Come on, Gannicus. Something around here stinks.’ Stiff-legged, like male dogs walking away from a rival, the Gauls stomped off the platform.
Spartacus watched them go. As when Crixus had finally made plain his intentions, he was relieved to know that the pair would leave. Yet he hoped that they could maintain some kind of working relationship. Keep the army together for at least another couple of months. That would give him enough time to find new recruits to replace the men who would leave.
He realised, that, having reached safety, he had just decided to walk back into the lion’s den. Remaining in Italy was provocation of the most severe kind, greater even than the munus he had celebrated. The Romans would never leave them in peace. As far as Spartacus knew, the Senate had not sued for peace in its own land since it had lost a war to the Samnites more than two centuries before. It certainly wasn’t going to do so with a slave.
He glanced at Ariadne, still wondering what her response would be. ‘I had little choice — I saw that Castus and Gannicus knew about Lucullus. Fucking Arnax! It’s all his fault. He’ll soon be sorry.’
‘What are you going to do to him?’
‘Crucify the little bastard. It’s no less than he deserves.’
Horror filled her eyes. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘If it hadn’t been for him, the army might well have done what I asked! That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?’
‘Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I would kill a child over it. Especially one who didn’t know any better. It wasn’t as if he’d been told not to say anything!’
‘That’s of no matter,’ he grated. ‘Men — or boys — are either with me, or against me.’
Ariadne thought of the baby in her belly, and of Arnax’s youth. No more than a decade in the difference, she thought. Outrage filled her. ‘Do it, and you risk bringing down the wrath of the gods upon yourself and your army. I can see this.’
He stared at her for a moment. She glared back, daring him to challenge her. ‘Very well. I’ll just give him a good thrashing.’
Ariadne let out a sigh of relief. He had not become totally unreasonable.
‘If I hadn’t spoken when I did, they would have accused me of lying,’ he said in a conciliatory tone.
‘I know.’
‘This is my army, not theirs. I’m damned if I’ll hand it over to them.’
‘I know that too.’
Spartacus thought that her voice sounded less angry than before, but he wasn’t sure. ‘The war is only beginning. It will be more bitter and more bloody than anything that has happened thus far.’ He wanted to ask her to stay, but his pride wouldn’t let him. ‘What will you do?’
If I remain, our son will be born in Italy. What will happen to us, great Dionysus? The silence that met her question was resounding, but Ariadne firmed her resolve. She had chosen to accept Spartacus as he was. She would make the best of this situation, even if it was not what she wanted to do. ‘You are my husband.’ She moved to his side. ‘I would not be separated from you. We will face the future together, as we have always done.’
‘I am glad.’ Drawing her closer, Spartacus surveyed his army. Pride filled him once more. Rome’s pool of manpower might be immense. Its determination might be never-ending. The tasks before him might be comparable to those faced by Hercules. Yet he had more than fifty thousand brave soldiers who would follow him to the doors of Hades. The Gauls would leave, but the losses in his ranks could be replaced. More slaves came to join them every day.
Give me time, Great Rider, and I could raise an army of one hundred thousand men, or even more. That will make the senators tremble in their beds.
Especially if one day we arrive at the gates of Rome.
Chapter VII
Picenum, near the coast of north-eastern Italy, summer 72 BC
Marcion stamped his feet up and down, hoping that nobody would notice his anxiety.
An instant later, Gaius nudged him. ‘Feeling nervous?’
‘Aren’t you?’ hissed Marcion.
‘No. Today’s not the day I’m going to die.’
‘How can you know that?’ demanded Marcion. ‘Our damn cohort is near the centre of our line, where the heaviest casualties will be.’
‘Gaius is too stupid to know if Hades is coming for him,’ said Arphocras with a snicker.
Gaius scowled as the rest of them winked and smiled. They might not be admitting it, but apart from Gaius, there was a nervous tinge to everyone’s expression, Marcion noted. His gaze was drawn again to the massed ranks of legionaries on the slope high above. ‘I can’t believe that we’re going to charge up there!’
All eyes followed his. The enemy’s position — at the top of a ridge — was daunting to say the least. A rocky peak prevented any chance of outflanking to the left, and the Roman right flank was protected by a large section of catapults.
‘Our cavalry are useless here. It’s a frontal assault by us — or nothing,’ said Arphocras sourly.
‘Good!’ exclaimed Gaius. ‘The quicker we get to grips with the stinking Romans, the better.’ He looked around for support, but all he got was filthy stares.
‘Spartacus has gone bloody mad,’ grumbled Zeuxis. ‘His victories have gone to his head. I told you this would happen.’
‘We’re going to die.’ Arphocras sounded resigned. ‘Even if the Romans lose, we’ll never know about it.’
Zeuxis rubbed the double-ended phallic amulet that hung from a thong around his neck and mouthed a prayer. Several of the others did the same.
They’re really scared. Somehow, Marcion rallied his courage. ‘Spartacus knows what he’s doing.’
‘Does he?’ Zeuxis sounded even more dubious than ever.
‘He’s never made a mistake yet, has he?’
‘That means nothing. No one’s perfect,’ replied Zeuxis angrily. ‘And what’s his secret plan here? Any fool can see that charging up a slope is tantamount to suicide, yet that’s what we’re about to do.’
‘There are only two legions on the ridge,’ growled Gaius. ‘We outnumber the bastards by six to one.’
‘But we can’t all engage at the same time: their front is too narrow. Besides, the odds aren’t as great as you say. The other consul’s legions won’t be far away,’ snapped Zeuxis. ‘They’ll fall on our rear at the first opportunity.’