‘You’re going to leave me?’ She began to cry again.
‘I have to,’ he muttered awkwardly. In an effort to reassure her, he said, ‘I’ll take a look into the house. See what’s going on. Make sure it’s safe for you.’ Safe?
She didn’t seem any happier, but Carbo didn’t know what else to say or do. Hefting his sword, he strode towards the small wooden door. Reaching it, he placed his head carefully against the timbers and listened. The voices he’d heard were still audible, but dim. Carbo waited for the count of fifty heartbeats, but the noise level remained the same. Good. There’s no one in the kitchen. He placed his thumb on the latch. With a metallic click, it lifted. He laid his ear on the door again. Nothing. Carbo’s stomach began to churn, but he pulled the door open and looked inside.
The kitchen had been thoroughly ransacked. Broken crockery lay everywhere. Doors had been ripped off cupboards. Bags of flour had been slashed open, strings of onions and bunches of herbs hacked down from the rafters. A yellow sludge of olive oil surrounded a smashed amphora. There was no sign of life, so Carbo took a step inside. Seeing the telltale crimson of blood on the tiled floor, he stiffened. He tiptoed further, finding an old man sprawled in the kitchen doorway. The slave — for that’s what he looked like — had been nearly decapitated. His head lay at a crazy, unnatural angle to his body. Carbo had never seen so much blood around one man. He must have bled out.
A woman’s scream transfixed him to the spot. It was followed by another shriek of distress, also female, and then a burst of loud, male laughter. ‘Let’s fuck them here in the courtyard,’ roared a voice.
‘Good idea,’ agreed another.
‘I’m first,’ said a third, commanding voice. ‘I’m not screwing either of these bitches after you filth. My cock would probably drop off with what I’d catch.’
There were a few nervous titters, but no one argued.
Crixus! What’s he doing here? Carbo crept back towards the door. He had nearly reached it when the first woman cried out again. ‘No! Please! No!’
Chloris? In all the gods’ names, how? Why? Carbo reeled with the shock of it. Her begging began again, and any doubt in his mind vanished. It was definitely her. Oh gods, what can I do? If I go out there, Crixus will kill me. He had to do something, however, or he’d never be able to live with the shame.
Gritting his teeth, he turned around. There was no way of getting around the old man without stepping in his blood. Carbo hesitated for a moment before dipping the fingers of his left hand in the sticky fluid, and smearing them all over his face. To have any chance of facing down Crixus, he needed to look as if he’d just slaughtered half the town on his own.
Clutching his sword with whitened knuckles, he stepped out into the courtyard. Like the garden, it was full of fruit trees, but a fountain, ornamental shrubs and Greek statues of the gods also served to decorate the space. It reminded Carbo of his family home. Through the vegetation, he spied Crixus and two other men with long hair about twenty paces away. At their feet, he could see the lower halves of two naked women. Chloris, and someone else. The heavily muscled trio were clad in mail shirts, and bloody swords dangled from their hands. They were all Gauls. Crixus would have his own countrymen with him. Carbo’s courage began ebbing away. He felt as Iolaus, Hercules’ nephew, might have felt if he’d been asked to tackle the Hydra on his own. How to play this? Threatening them won’t work. He was racking his brains for an idea when events took on a life of their own.
‘We’ve got company,’ one of the men shouted, dropping into a fighting crouch.
The others spun around, snarling with anger.
‘It’s all right. I’m one of you!’ Carbo did his best to swagger up to the trio.
‘Trying to distract me from my fuck?’ shouted Crixus. His heavy brows lowered, and then he sneered. ‘Well, well, well. It’s Spartacus’ little Roman arse wipe. You look to have killed someone at least. What are you doing sneaking around here?’
‘Looking for valuables, same as everyone,’ Carbo lied.
‘Well, you’ll find sod all here. The family savings are ours. They were under a flagstone in the atrium.’ Crixus jerked his head at the two women. ‘These two pretty bitches were hiding in a cupboard in one of the bedrooms. Finding them was a real bonus. The gods left the best for us until last, eh?’ He rubbed his crotch and his men sniggered.
Carbo took another step forward, as if to appreciate the women’s bodies. Is it really Chloris? His heart clenched with horror. It was. There was no mistaking her delicately boned face and the dimple on her left cheek, both now streaked with tears. Or her scars. Seeing Carbo’s blood-covered features, she screamed.
‘She doesn’t like you,’ said Crixus with a cruel chuckle. ‘Seeing as I’m in a good mood, I’ll let you have her anyway — after we’ve finished. How does that sound?’
‘Good, thank you.’ Carbo feigned sudden surprise. ‘Gods!’ He kicked Chloris with his sandal. ‘Chloris, is that you?’
She didn’t reply, so Carbo kicked her harder. ‘Answer me!’
‘Y-yes.’ There was still no trace of recognition in her terrified eyes.
‘Ha! I was right.’ He threw the Gauls a broad smile. ‘Imagine that.’
A sudden scowl creased Crixus’ face. ‘The useless whore was crying about being one of us. I thought she was lying.’
Carbo shoved the words out of his mouth before his fear made him swallow them down forever. ‘She wasn’t. Chloris is my woman.’ At the edge of his vision, he was aware of her reaching out an entreating hand. ‘The silly cow must have wandered into town after us. Let me take her. I’ll find you a replacement. Or two of them! Better-looking ones too.’
Crixus’ right fist bunched, and he jabbed his gladius at Carbo’s face, forcing him to take a step backwards. ‘Cheeky little bastard! Do you really think you can take a piece of cunny from me that easily? I don’t give a shit whether she’s yours or not.’
Carbo flushed deep red. ‘I-’
‘Piss off!’ Crixus glanced down at Chloris. ‘So you belong to this shitbag, eh? I must remember to cut your throat when we’re done.’
‘No!’ roared Carbo. He half drew his blade.
The point of Crixus’ sword swung back to prick him under the chin. ‘You’re testing my patience, Roman. Want to die right now?’
If I die, Chloris does too. ‘No.’
‘You have some brains then. I’m going to count to three. If you’re still here when I finish, I’m going to let my friends here carve you up. One-’
Carbo shot Chloris what he hoped was an encouraging look, before he turned and fled. As he ran, his ears rang with the Gauls’ mocking laughter. He expected Chloris to call out, begging him not to leave her, but she didn’t.
That hurt far more.
Carbo hurdled the corpse in the kitchen doorway with a single leap. Throwing open the door, he sprinted into the garden. He was vaguely aware of the girl emerging from the shrine, her mouth opening in a question. ‘Get back under there!’ he hissed. ‘The bastards have no reason to come outside.’
‘Where are you going?’ she wailed.
‘To get help.’ Trying not to think about how he was leaving a defenceless child, Carbo ran for the back gate.
Spartacus. He had to find Spartacus.
If he didn’t succeed, and fast, Chloris would be dead.
The period that followed was the longest of Carbo’s entire life. Never had he had a task more urgent, and never had he been so foiled at every turn. On every street, he found nothing but death, destruction and the men who delivered it. There was no sign of Spartacus anywhere. Carbo struggled even to recognise many of the armed men he came across. Fortunately for him, the opposite did not apply, and he received little in the way of open aggression. They even answered his demands for their leader. Carbo didn’t know why, but the killing seemed to have eased, and with it the blood lust. Now the slaves and gladiators were in search of wine, food and women — not necessarily in that order.