‘You didn’t agree with Zeuxis, however.’
‘No, sir.’
‘Why didn’t you try to attack me as well?’
‘I don’t pick fights for no reason, sir.’
‘Hmmm. You seem to be the most steady one here. What’s your name?’
‘Marcion, sir.’
Spartacus made a snap decision. ‘So, Marcion, do you vouch for these men?’
A sharp tang of fear tinged the already tense atmosphere. Everyone had caught the underlying meaning in their leader’s words.
‘Yes, sir. I do. They are all good soldiers. They’ve fought bravely in every battle I’ve seen. Zeuxis might have a big mouth, but he killed a Roman officer in Picenum, and Arphocras there’ — he indicated a man with a bushy beard — ‘helped to capture a standard the day we fought Gellius.’
Spartacus glared at Zeuxis, who was rubbing gingerly at his burned arse. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yes, sir, it is!’ He pointed at the pile of weapons. ‘I can show you his sword.’
‘There’s no need. I believe you.’
Zeuxis fell silent. He watched Spartacus fearfully. So did his companions.
‘The reason I went away was not as you thought, to scout out our route. I went to Rome.’ He smiled at their surprise.
‘Why, sir?’ asked Marcion.
‘To find out what the Romans have planned for us, and to assassinate the new general who will lead their army.’
More shock on their faces.
‘Did you succeed, sir?’ Zeuxis ventured.
‘Partially. I learned that the legions will not wait until the spring to march against us. Two of us weren’t enough to kill Crassus, but we put the fear of Hades into him, that’s for sure.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’ll slay the whoreson the next time I meet him.’
Now the soldiers looked awed.
‘Would you like to hack down another Roman officer, Zeuxis? Are the rest of you ready to fight another battle against the legions? Because that’s what we’re going to have to do — sooner or later.’
‘If you’re leading us, sir, I’ll fight anyone — even the Minotaur!’ cried Zeuxis.
‘What of you, Marcion?’ asked Spartacus.
‘Count me in, sir.’
‘Me too!’ shouted Arphocras.
Their companions roared their agreement. Around them, men began chanting, ‘SPAR-TA-CUS! SPAR-TA-CUS!’
Carbo was amazed at how the situation had been reversed. A group of unhappy soldiers, many of them ready to desert, had become fervent believers in Spartacus.
A smile of approval flickered across the Thracian’s lips, and he raised his hands for silence. ‘You are brave men, all of you. And although you’re a pain in the arse sometimes’ — here, he eyed the embarrassed Zeuxis — ‘I wouldn’t ever be without you!’
The air filled with yells of delight.
‘Everything that you suffer, every hardship and tribulation, I also endure.’ Spartacus turned to regard the larger crowd of onlookers. ‘I may have gone away, but I was always going to come back. Always! As the Great Rider is my witness, I will never leave you, my brave soldiers. NEVER!’
This time, Carbo joined in. ‘SPAR-TA-CUS! SPAR-TA-CUS! SPAR-TA-CUS!’
‘I will see you again soon,’ Spartacus said to Zeuxis. ‘You might have had time to chew on your sandals by that stage.’
Zeuxis’ flush grew even deeper; his companions fell about laughing.
Spartacus clapped Zeuxis on the arm. Then he turned to Carbo with a wicked grin. ‘It’s time to sort out Castus and Gannicus.’ And see my child!
With the soldiers’ cheers ringing in their ears, they walked off.
This time, it was down the main avenue between the tents.
The camp filled with happy cries as men saw that their leader had returned. Spartacus waved and smiled, and kept walking. Inside, he was delighted that so few faces seemed disappointed by his reappearance. They were seeing only a tiny fraction of the army, but it boded well for the rest. Castus and Gannicus’ poison hadn’t spread that far. It wasn’t long until they reached Ariadne’s tent. Atheas and Taxacis were on guard outside. Recognising Spartacus, they sprang forward, fierce grins splitting their faces.
Spartacus raised a hand to his lips. ‘Quiet,’ he whispered.
The Scythians glanced at each other in surprise, but they obeyed.
‘Want… to see… your son?’ muttered Atheas.
‘My son?’ Thank the gods — it’s a boy! His resolve wavered for a moment, but he held it in place with an iron will. The Gauls had to be dealt with at once, before they heard he was back.
‘Yes. Maron.’
‘She named him after my brother,’ said Spartacus softly. ‘That is a good name. Is he well?’
‘He… fine.’ Atheas beamed. ‘He… like you.’
A tight smile. ‘I’ll see him later.’
Carbo was stunned. ‘Later?’
Spartacus ignored him. Then, to Atheas, ‘Do you have a couple of spare swords?’
The Scythian nodded.
‘Get them.’ Spartacus tapped a foot against the ground as Atheas hurried off. He looked furious. Carbo didn’t dare say a word.
Atheas returned with two plain but serviceable gladii, each of which was attached to a leather baldric. He handed one to each of them.
Spartacus slung his over his right shoulder. ‘Take me to Castus and Gannicus.’
Atheas led off, but he was clearly concerned. ‘Why?’
‘We were attacked two nights ago. It wasn’t Romans. They had to be men from our camp. Who would have the best reasons for wanting me dead?’
‘Castus. Gannicus. The bastards!’ snarled Taxacis. ‘We… kill them?’
Spartacus showed his teeth. ‘Sadly, we need the cocksuckers. Ten legions are being raised. They could be here within three to four months. That might not be enough time to raise and train replacements for the soldiers who would follow the Gauls if they left.’
Carbo’s nerves were wire taut now. What can four of us do? ‘How are you going to play this?’
‘I want to see their faces when they see that I’m alive. That will tell us if they’re guilty or not. We’ll scare the shit out of the dogs. Show them that they can be got at too.’
‘They’ll have dozens of warriors.’
‘What of it?’ spat Spartacus. ‘They have to see that I’m not scared of them, not even a little bit, and to understand that if they order my death, they will die first. We’d manage that before they cut us down, eh?’
‘Yes!’ cried the Scythians fiercely.
Carbo gritted his teeth against his fear. It almost worked. ‘I’m with you.’
‘I knew you would be,’ Spartacus declared. He threw Carbo a wink. ‘As long as the gods are with us, it won’t come to that. Lead on, Atheas.’
Wondering how in Hades Spartacus would prevent them being massacred, Carbo followed his leader.
The Gauls’ tents weren’t far away. They were surrounded by those of their closest supporters, which meant that the small group soon began to attract attention. Those soldiers who didn’t recognise Spartacus knew the Scythians or Carbo by sight. Men stared hostilely and pointed. A few insults were thrown, but no one obstructed their passage. Yet.
A gob of phlegm landed by Carbo’s feet, and his guts churned. Normally, he would have challenged such an insult, but not now.
‘Keep moving,’ muttered Spartacus.
Atheas’ pace picked up.
They found Castus and Gannicus before a pavilion that must have once belonged to a Roman general. A large number of gilt standards had been stabbed into the ground by it, including five silver eagles. Castus was sitting on a log with a half-naked woman kneeling between his open knees. As her head moved up and down, he groaned softly. Gannicus lay on his back nearby, swallowing a stream of wine that fell from a jug held by a dull-eyed, semi-dressed woman. More than a score of armed soldiers lounged about, chatting idly, drinking or fondling yet more fearful-looking girls. A few noticed as the group approached, but they were far too late to prevent what happened next.
‘Cover Gannicus,’ Spartacus hissed at the Scythians. ‘When you see me act, pour the whole jug over the bastard.’