‘We are.’
‘Well, if you want me and my men as allies, and I’d wager my left ball that I’ve got a damn sight more of them than you’ — here Castus shoved his face right into Gannicus’ — ‘there’d better be more sharing of information in future.’
Gannicus had had enough of Castus and his perpetual grievances. He shoved the redhead hard in the chest. ‘Screw you! I’ve told you before that if you want to go it alone, you can do it anytime. See how far you get with only five or six thousand men! You’ll be massacred by the first Roman legion that you come across.’
‘Is that right?’ Castus’ sword hummed free.
‘Oh, so you want to fight me now?’ snapped Gannicus, beginning to draw his own weapon.
‘No, I want to chop you into little fucking pieces.’
Gannicus felt his own rage beginning to rise. With an effort, he brought it under control. He wasn’t scared of taking on Castus, but it was a pointless exercise that would end with one or both of them injured or dead. He let his blade slide back into the scabbard. ‘This is stupid.’
Castus darted forward. ‘There’s nothing stupid about hewing your smart-arse head from your neck,’ he cried, drawing back his right arm. ‘Tell Hades I said “Hello”.’
‘You know I’m not a coward, Castus. You know I’m also your equal with a sword. Before you kill me, think about what you’re doing. Remember our plan to seize control of the whole army? To be like Brennus, the chieftain of old?’
It was as if someone had thrown Castus into a pool of icy water. A degree of sanity returned to his eyes.
‘Is that what you want still?’ Gannicus continued.
‘Of course.’
‘Then put away your damn weapon. Let’s talk about how we can make our idea a reality instead of butchering each other like a pair of drunken warriors arguing over a woman.’
Lowering his arm, Castus leaned towards him. ‘We could start by going back and slitting that bitch’s throat — and killing the baby too.’
‘I’d do it in a heartbeat, but we would never get close enough. Did you not see how closely the Scythians were watching? Even if we managed it, the men would turn on us when they found out.’
Castus looked disappointed. ‘Best to do something like that at night, I suppose. Secretly.’
‘Let’s stay focused on one idea.’ Gannicus glanced around. ‘Killing Spartacus. Once he’s out of the picture, it will be a lot easier to rally the army around us. Ariadne and the brat can be dispatched then too.’
‘Egbeo and Pulcher will also need to be killed.’
‘Agreed.’
‘What had you in mind? An ambush on him when he’s coming back here?’
Gannicus winked.
Castus’ answering grin was predatory. ‘How will they find him?’
‘It’s a gamble, I know, but I’d say that he and Carbo will travel the same way they went to Rome. Straight down the Via Annia.’
‘You’re right. All they’ll need to do is find a good spot to spy on the road some distance from here. They can do the job at night.’ Castus’ grin slipped. ‘We can’t send Gauls in case anyone sees them and points the finger at us.’
‘I’ve got a group of mixed bloods in mind. You know the types.’
Castus nodded. On the large latifundia, it was common for slaves of different origins to have children together. Thousands of the soldiers in Spartacus’ army were such. These men felt no loyalty to one race or another, as the Gauls, Thracians and Germans did.
‘They’re mostly farm slaves, former herders and the like. They answer to me, not Spartacus, and every one of them would slit their own mothers’ throats for a purse of silver.’
Suspicion flared in Castus’ eyes. ‘You’re not just sending your men. Not for something this big.’
‘Send a few of your lot as well,’ replied Gannicus, holding up his hands. ‘But make sure that they’re capable of getting the job done.’
‘If we pick five each, that will be plenty. Even Spartacus can’t kill ten men.’
‘He’s not alone, remember?’
‘Surely you’re not worried about that little sewer rat Carbo?’
‘Worried? No. But he can handle himself in a fight.’ Gannicus sucked in his moustache. ‘Ten men should be enough, though.’
‘They’d best leave tonight. Gods, but I’d love to go myself.’ Castus eyed Gannicus sidelong. ‘Make sure the job’s done properly.’
‘No.’
‘Why not? Spartacus won’t tell any tales afterwards.’ He leered. ‘Neither will his little catamite.’
‘That Thracian has more lives than a cat. He might get away. Imagine that he does, and that he’s seen you. What’s the first thing he’d do?’
‘All right, I see what you’re getting at.’ Castus’ face soured. ‘We would lose any chance of uniting the army under our command.’
‘Precisely. But if we only send men whom we trust, who are not Gauls, there’s far less of a trail back to us if things go wrong. And even if this doesn’t work, we’ll find another opportunity,’ said Gannicus. ‘The slyest cat uses up its lives in the end, eh?’
The next morning, Carbo and Spartacus rose early. Varus’ cook served the trio a hearty breakfast of bread, honey, nuts and cheese. The rest of the domestic slaves, a dozen or more, gathered in the doorway and windows of the kitchen and stared in awe at Spartacus. Feeling sorry for them, he said nothing. They had all asked to come with him when they left, and he’d had to refuse. What he needed were hardened agricultural slaves and herdsmen, men who were used to the outdoors and, if possible, to hunting. The frustrated slaves had then wanted to turn on Varus, and he’d had to forbid that as well. ‘You will only bring a sentence of death upon yourselves,’ he’d warned. It wasn’t uncommon for the authorities to execute every slave in a household in which the master had been murdered. For his own safety, therefore, and to ensure that he could make no attempt to escape, Varus, together with his major domo and doorman, had been locked overnight into an office.
Spartacus had resolved to confine the household slaves before they left. That way, Varus would have no real reason to punish them for not raising the alarm. What he hadn’t yet decided was their best way of leaving the city. At dawn, he’d sent Tulla out to spy on the nearest gates. To Carbo’s evident relief and Spartacus’ amusement — he had judged the girl would honour her vow — she had soon returned. She reported that all the entrances were being heavily guarded. Many of those who sought to leave were being questioned. Not surprising, thought Spartacus.
‘We should split up,’ he said as they sat in the courtyard, listening to the muttered complaints issuing from Varus’ prison. ‘The guards will be looking for two men, not one.’
‘What if you get taken?’ asked Carbo.
‘If I do, I do. The gods will decide my fate.’ A wry shrug. ‘That’s why I’m giving you the gold. If I am captured, you are to find the army. As soon as the baby is strong enough to travel, you are to escort Ariadne away — as we previously discussed. The Scythians will go with you.’
The memory of the dawn before they’d fought Lentulus — and what Spartacus had asked him to do — was etched in Carbo’s memory. He nodded miserably, feeling the loss of his parents even more. ‘What of Navio? Egbeo? Pulcher? The rest of the men?’
‘They can choose their own paths. It won’t be up to me any longer. But whatever may happen to me, my family will be safe.’
‘Of course. If the day should ever come, and I pray to the gods that it does not, I shall do everything in my power to save them.’
Spartacus gripped his shoulder. ‘I know you will.’
‘And if I am captured?’ Carbo threw the words out to confront his fear. At least my pain would end.
‘Your comrades and I will never forget you. We shall make offerings to the gods, and hold a feast in your honour. Inside the next two months, I shall send a man to check on the progress of your parents’ tomb. If Varus hasn’t done what he said, he’ll lose a few fingers, and be warned that the next time, it will be his hands. That will hurry him along.’
A lump rose in Carbo’s throat. ‘Thank you.’ It will not come to that, he told himself.