Carbo could sense Spartacus smiling behind him. ‘I thought I told you to beat it!’
‘I’m a free citizen,’ replied the girl. ‘You can’t stop me from goin’ this way too.’
‘Can’t I?’ Carbo’s tone was acid.
‘No,’ came the bold reply.
Carbo increased his pace, leaving the girl trailing in his wake. His speed made little difference. A couple of hundred paces later, the Vicus Patricius was joined from the left by the Via Labicana, and the press grew as just as great as before. Carbo came to an abrupt halt. The junction was packed with carts, litters and people on foot.
‘Get a move on, boys!’ A group of soldiers led by an optio shoved their way out of the crowd, and marched in the direction of the Elysian Fields. Behind them shuffled a file of slaves led by a hard-faced man carrying a whip. Hollow-cheeked, clad in rags, chained to each other by the neck, the slaves were clearly bound for the market. There was a funeral procession, the corpse wrapped in fine linen sheets borne aloft on a couch by male relations. Following ancient tradition, slaves carried burning torches. In front, a party of musicians played a dirge over and over, as if that would part the crowds. Carbo glanced around, helpless and frustrated.
‘Sure you don’t want a guide?’ piped a familiar voice.
Carbo half turned, as if to look at the urchin, but also throwing a silent enquiry at Spartacus. Catching the Thracian’s almost imperceptible nod, he barked, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Tertulla. Tulla for short.’
‘How many summers have you seen?’
‘Seven or eight. I think.’
‘You think?’
‘Don’t know for sure. I’ve been on my own since I can remember.’
‘You’ve got no family?’
Tulla gave him a defiant look. ‘Don’t need no sympathy, mister. I do fine by myself, all right?’
‘I’m sure you do.’ Despite Tulla’s boldness, Carbo felt compassion for her. She was small, dirty and ill fed. ‘Where do you live?’
Again the defiant stare. ‘Clemens the baker lets me sleep by his oven in return for keeping watch on his shop. Look, do you want some help or not?’
‘Got places to go, have you?’ interjected Spartacus.
‘I have, as it happens.’
‘I see,’ said Carbo knowingly. ‘Don’t let me stop you from heading off.’
At once there was a change of demeanour. ‘It can wait.’
Carbo rubbed his chin, letting the girl stew for a moment. ‘How far is the Forum?’
‘About half a mile. Maybe less.’
That was what Carbo had thought. ‘Another as to take us there then.’
‘Three.’
‘Eh?’
‘Look at the crowd!’ Tulla pointed. ‘It’s going to get worse from here on. Everyone wants to hear Crassus speak. Isn’t that what you’re going for?’
‘Crassus? No, I just want to see the place for myself,’ Carbo lied blithely.
Tulla excavated the contents of one nostril and flicked it away. ‘You picked a bad day for sightseeing.’
‘I’ll give you two asses, and no more.’
Tulla’s grubby paw shot out. ‘I want payment up front.’
Carbo rooted in his purse and tossed a coin into the air.
It was expertly caught. ‘That’s only one as!’
‘You’ll have the other when we get there.’
Tulla didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘It will cost the same to get you back to the Elysian Fields. It’s best to do that before dark, believe me.’
‘I tell you what,’ said Carbo on impulse. ‘You can act as our guide for the whole of our visit. I’ll pay you an even denarius for the next three days.’
‘For two days.’
‘Fine.’ That was the figure Carbo had had in his head anyway.
‘Half now,’ Tulla demanded.
‘You’ve got to be joking! You’d vanish the moment we arrive in the Forum.’ Carbo handed over a second as. ‘I’ll give you another one tonight.’
‘All right,’ came the grudging reply. ‘But you can buy me a sausage on the way.’
Reminded of his own grumbling stomach, Carbo grinned. ‘Do you know a good place to buy some?’
Tulla was already ten paces down an alleyway. ‘The best in Rome! Come on!’
Carbo glanced at Spartacus.
‘Well done. She’ll be useful. Especially if we have to get away in a hurry.’
‘That’s what I was thinking.’
‘Watch what you let her hear,’ warned Spartacus. ‘She would sell us out in a heartbeat.’
Carbo nodded grimly.
‘Let’s get some food then. My belly thinks that my throat’s been cut.’
‘Me too.’ Carbo hurried after Tulla, who was nearly out of sight.
The girl was right about the food stall. The garlic and herb sausages that Carbo bought for them were some of the best he’d ever tasted. Shoved into the middle of a freshly baked loaf of flat bread bought from the baker’s next door, they were indescribably delicious.
From the sausage vendor, Tulla led them through a maze of narrow alleys. Underfoot, they trod on broken pottery, items of smashed furniture and refuse from the surrounding cenaculae. The air was fetid, and more than once Carbo stepped in oozing matter that gave way beneath him. ‘This is shit we’re walking in,’ he hissed accusingly at Tulla.
‘Might well be in places. Watch where you put your feet,’ came the nonchalant answer. ‘It’s the same in all these back ways. I can take you back to the main street if you want.’
Carbo turned his head.
‘No,’ muttered Spartacus.
‘Keep going,’ ordered Carbo with a sigh.
‘We’re nearly there,’ said Tulla by way of consolation. Sure enough, their ears soon filled with the commotion that only a huge gathering of people can make. Carbo’s heart quickened as Tulla led them triumphantly out into an open space. ‘Here you are.’
At once Carbo’s eyes were drawn above the throng to the flat-topped steep hill that loomed over the Forum. At the edge of the summit was an immense, painted statue of Jupiter, bearded and imperious. It had been positioned to watch over the city, and was truly magnificent. So too was the great gold-roofed temple behind. Despite himself, Carbo was filled with reverence. His lips moved in silent prayer.
‘Impressive, eh?’ said Tulla. ‘I’ve seen peasants fall to their knees when they see it.’
Anger filled Spartacus at the whole spectacle of the Forum, the statue, the temples, the very centre of the Republic. How he longed to tear it all down, but it was too great. He fought a rising sense of frustration and gloom. The best I can hope for is a stalemate of some kind.
‘Where will Crassus speak?’ asked Carbo. ‘From the Curia steps?’
Tulla shook her head. ‘More likely from the platform by the Rostra.’
Carbo could sense Spartacus’ question. ‘That’s a pillar decorated with the prows of captured Carthaginian ships, isn’t it?’ he asked.
‘Something like that,’ came the uncertain reply.
‘It was built after the first war with Carthage,’ Carbo declared confidently, remembering his boyhood tutor’s history lessons.
A war that was primarily fought at sea. And which the Romans won despite the fact that at its outset they didn’t have a navy, thought Spartacus sourly.
‘That’s where the Vestal Virgins live.’ Tulla pointed to a circular temple, the roof of which was visible off to the left. ‘There are lots of other temples around the edges of the Forum too. There’s one to Castor and Pollux, one to-’
‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Carbo. He had sensed Spartacus’ restlessness. ‘Let’s get a move on, eh? If we have to make our way through this crowd, it will take all day.’
‘Weren’t you listening to what I said? This is what it will be like everywhere in the Forum. Half of Rome wants to hear Crassus tell of how he will crush Spartacus. The shops in the markets will probably be shut for the duration too.’
‘Oh.’ Carbo pretended to be disappointed. ‘Still, I suppose we could listen to Crassus while we’re here.’
Tulla gave him a withering look. ‘You’ll have trouble hearing a word he says from this spot.’
‘Can you get us closer?’
‘Of course! We’ll just go around the back streets.’ She pushed past and headed confidently back the way they had come. ‘I’ll take you right to the Rostra.’