Claudia blushed, and then linked arms with Gallia and Diana. ‘I’m pregnant.’
They kissed and embraced her, while I offered my hand to Spartacus. ‘That is truly wondrous news, lord. My congratulations.’ Rubi jumped up and down in delight, though she knew not why.
He slapped me hard on the shoulder, almost knocking me over. ‘Thank you, Pacorus.’
‘When is the birth?’ asked Gallia.
‘Spring next year,’ replied Claudia, embracing Diana who had tears in her eyes.
The news of Claudia’s pregnancy spread like wildfire throughout the army and its morale soared accordingly. It was reckoned a good omen, for the son of Spartacus would be an even mightier warrior than his father, and would surely be blessed by the gods. Whether that was true or not, that autumn the whole army seemed to be blessed. We raided far and wide, often reaping a rich haul, for this was harvest time when vineyards yielded grapes for central Italy’s crop of red wines and olive groves heaved with fruit. The country estates teemed with slaves who were stripping grapes from their vines, carrying them in baskets to the end of each row of trees and then heaving them into carts. I took Gallia with me as part of my company. She had wanted to lead her women to make up another party but I forbade her. I had visions of her and her women being ambushed, raped and then crucified and the thought terrified me. So I said she could accompany me but that her women must stay with the army. I even increased the number of men who rode with me to two hundred to ensure her safety, and also made sure that they were the best archers and swordsmen in my dragon.
The countryside of central Italy was beautiful that autumn, with misty olive groves interweaved with rows of cypresses and vineyards covering gently undulating hills. And always in the background were the mountains with their lush alpine meadows, streams and tracts of savage wilderness. Nearer the coast were thick forests and marshland, the woodlands filled with wild boar and wolves. We camped hidden in the trees at night, and in the dawn light visited fire and sword upon unsuspecting towns and villages. It was easy enough. Two of Byrd’s scouts accompanied us, and on their mangy horses they would ride to a habitation the previous day, taking note of any walls or barriers that might impede our assault. Frequently there were none; indeed, often there was no official Roman presence at all. The cities and big towns had their walls and garrisons, but we weren’t interested in those. We killed any overseers we came across when we raided the large agricultural estates and freed the slaves, giving them directions to the army. Whether any made the journey or merely fled to the hills and woods and became bandits, I do not know. When we attacked we came out of the pre-dawn mist, my huge scarlet banner with its white horse’s head billowing behind me. We carried flaming torches that we tossed into carts, barns and haystacks. We killed only those who offered resistance. Most fled for their lives, clutching a few possessions and some mothers holding infants at their breasts. These we let live. Occasionally a group of men, perhaps veterans who had been granted land by a grateful Roman senate, made a stand against us — a ragged line of men with cracked shields, no helmets and rusty swords and old spears for weapons. They remembered their legionary training well enough, but had no answer to our speed and arrows. We rode round and behind them and shot them to pieces. We torched villas, farms and staging posts for the Roman mail system, always scouring for gold and silver before we did so. We collected a tidy sum of both. But I got bored of striking easy targets and so we ventured towards towns, raiding Luna, Faesulae, Ad Fines, Ad Novas, Vepete and Sahate. I often sent half a dozen riders to the main gates and had them hurl insults at the guards. Then the gates would open and a detachment of riders would gallop out to apprehend them. But my men were merely the bait, and over the crest of a hill or hidden among trees we would be waiting, and the Romans would fall into the trap and would be slaughtered to a man. Or we would burn a large villa, then conceal ourselves and wait for the nearest garrison, who would see the tall columns of black smoke billowing into the sky, to send troops to investigate. And when they arrived we would cut them down from our hiding place with arrows, or charge them on horseback, screaming and yelling. The shock momentarily froze them to the spot, giving us just enough time to reach them and hack them down with our swords before they had chance to organise themselves into formation.
One of the scouts reported that the city of Arretium, located on a steep hill beside the floodplain of the River Arno, had walls that were half demolished. A local had told him that they had been destroyed during a civil war and had not been repaired. There were four gates into the city, located at the four points of the compass, but on the southern side the walls had been torn down after an army had stormed and sacked it. They had not been repaired. Instead, the masonry had been plundered to erect new dwellings that now stood outside of the original circuit. A rampart of earth had been erected around these new homes with the purpose of building a new wall to encompass the city’s overspill, but the rampart stood neglected. The city authorities had grown lax; but then, they were in the centre of Italy and what threat was nearby?
We camped around five miles from Arretium, in a wooded gully through which ran a stream of fast-flowing, ice-cool water. We lay up during the day and rested. Two hours before dusk, after we had eaten a meal of biscuit and fruit, I gathered everyone in a semi-circle.
‘We ride tonight and attack before dawn.’ I looked at the scout who had visited Arretium, a tall, wiry man in his late twenties with black eyes and an evil grin. His name was Diaolus and he was a Greek. No one knew anything about him except that he had been a slave, but had lived as a bandit before he had joined Byrd’s men. He spoke Latin well and had not been branded, as far as I could tell. I believed he had some sort of an education, but he resisted all attempts to extract information from him.
‘The gates have guards, but they are not always closed at night. The soldiers are fat and lazy and are only interested in bribes.’ He cast a glance at Gallia. ‘And women.’
‘How large is the garrison?’ I asked.
He threw up his hands. ‘Maybe one cohort.’
‘That is more than we are,’ said one of my officers.
Diaolus smiled. ‘But they are lazy cowards and you are warriors.’
‘And you are sure about the earth rampart?’ I said.
He nodded. ‘It is nothing more than a large tussock. It is no barrier at all’
‘Very well,’ I said, ‘that will be our way in. We ride in fast, hit them hard and get out quickly. No bravado, no loitering and no getting into fights. We burn, we kill, we leave.’
Before we left we checked and re-checked weapons, straps on the horses and then the animals themselves, especially their iron shoes. After night had fallen we walked for the first three miles of the journey, moving through waist-high grass, along dirt tracks and through trees. There was no moon and at first it was difficult to follow Diaolus. After a while, though, our eyes grew more accustomed to the night and three hours later we reached the paved road that led to Arretium. The smooth, perfectly dressed flagstones seemed to exude a ghostly glow in the dark, showing us the way to our target. We mounted our horses and rode them on the verge, for the horse shoes on the paving stones would make a racket loud enough to raise the dead. We rode in silence to the city, swinging away from the road half a mile from its walls. Moving parallel to the stone defences, we were soon at the gap in the masonry that Diaolus had spoken of. He had not exaggerated. The wall was missing for at least half a mile, the glow from the night lamps and from within buildings providing an illuminated backdrop. I saw the mound, a gently rising heap of earth, in front of which stood a motley collection of poorly constructed dwellings, hovels in truth. In the east the first rays of dawn were emerging over the high Apennines in the distance, making the clouds glow red and yellow. Soon the city folk would be stirring. It was time to wake them up.