‘My arms will ache tomorrow.’
‘They will get used to it. Keep practising and your body will become accustomed to shooting.’
We were riding side by side and she turned to look at me. ‘Gafarn is very free with his tongue in your company. Is it normal for a servant to speak to a prince so?’
I laughed. ‘Gafarn is, well, he has always been with me since I was a child. I put up with him because he has always been the same irritating rascal he is now. But he is loyal, both to me and to my parents. So much so that I put up with him.’
‘And he’s a good archer,’ she said, smiling.
I grimaced. ‘Indeed.’
‘Do you miss your home, Pacorus?’
The question surprised me somewhat. ‘Yes.’
‘What do you miss most about it?’
‘My father and mother, I suppose, and my friend, Vata.’
‘No one else? No wife?’
I laughed. ‘No wife, though my parents would like me to marry, I think. They were engineering a marriage between myself and Princess Axsen of Babylon. A marriage that would strengthen my father’s kingdom. But she’s very fat.’
‘You do not like fat women?’
I felt her questions were part of an intricate game, some sort of test. What was her purpose in asking me such queries?
‘I think I would like to get to know someone first before I marry them, be they fat or thin. And would prefer to marry someone that I love rather than be a pawn in a game of strategy.’
She said nothing for a few minutes as our horses slowly ambled towards the hundreds of small fires that dotted the camp at evening time. ‘I think that too,’ she mused as we passed the crude wooden watchtowers that guarded the entrance. I said goodnight to her at Spartacus’ tent. I glanced behind once as Remus trotted down the central avenue, to see her standing arrow straight observing me. This woman was coursing through my heart and head with the force of a desert wind. Gallia was the first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing on my mind when I drifted off to sleep at night.
The last weeks of summer were a happy time as eight hundred men and two women were turned into horse archers. There were a fair share of cracked ribs and bruised prides as individuals learnt to shoot a bow from a horse, and often fell from the saddle when turning to the left to loose an arrow or shoot at a target directly ahead. But all of them wanted to learn, wanted to be part of the decisive component of the army. And as the time passed I almost forgot that we were in the land of the enemy and would have to fight for our freedom. But the Romans had not forgotten about us, and as autumn came upon us news reached camp that a Roman force was marching south to destroy the slave general Spartacus and his army.
Chapter 7
It was Byrd who rode to my headquarters and reported the news that the Romans were approaching. His horse was lathered in sweat and he was covered in dust as he gave his intelligence.
‘Romani, more than five thousand, most foot, also horse.’
‘Where?’ I asked.
He drained a cup of water offered to him by Godarz. ‘North of Capua.’
‘That’s only thirty miles away,’ remarked Godarz. ‘They could be here in two days if they got a move on.’
I rode to Vesuvius with Godarz, Nergal and Byrd, who had been given a fresh horse. We galloped down the central avenue and halted before Spartacus’ tent. Guards took our horses as we went inside to find Spartacus and Crixus sat at the table eating a meal. It was the first time I had seen the Gaul in weeks, and he sneered when he saw me and spat a piece of meat from the bone he was gnawing on the floor. He looked as big and disgusting as ever. Spartacus nodded as I marched over to him and saluted, being careful to ignore Crixus. Nergal, Godarz and Byrd followed me.
‘Romans, lord, approaching from the north.’
Spartacus put down his cup and leaned back in his chair. ‘Where?’
I pointed at Byrd. ‘This man has seen them with his own eyes. Tell him. Byrd.’
‘Five thousand foot, thereabouts, five score cavalry. North of Capua yesterday. Closer now, I think.’
‘Ha,’ bellowed Crixus, jumping up and knocking the chair to the floor, ‘we outnumber them. Let me and my men handle them.’ He looked at me. ‘Your horse boys have done their job, you won’ be needed any longer.’
I could not resist the challenge. ‘Without my horsemen you would still be feeding your face while the Romans approached unseen. Without my men you are blind.’
‘Enough!’ snapped Spartacus. ‘If you two want a fight there are a few thousand Romans to contend with.’
‘Lord Spartacus,’ interrupted Godarz, ‘if I may. The quickest way to get here is down the Via Annia.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Crixus, picking up his chair and sitting back down in it.
‘The main road to the south of Italy,’ replied Godarz. ‘If they march down that they will reach Nola in a day, then they can head west.’
‘And pin us against the sea,’ said Spartacus.
‘Yes, lord,’ replied Godarz.
‘Five thousand Gauls say they won’t make it to Vesuvius,’ boasted Crixus, tearing off a huge piece of bread from a loaf and stuffing it into his equally huge mouth. Did this man never stop shoveling food into his belly?
‘How many of your men have weapons, Crixus?’ asked Spartacus.
Crixus shrugged. ‘About half. But don’t worry, we can get the rest when we kill these Romans who are coming. My boys are itching for a fight.’
‘Or just itching, from fleas, no doubt,’ I said.
‘What was that, boy?’
‘Nothing,’ I smiled. Crixus glared at me. I knew he hated me, but his dislike seemed to have grown markedly since the last time we had seen each other.
‘No,’ said Spartacus in a stern voice, ‘we cannot risk a battle with the Romans yet. We need more weapons and more men. The Romans can afford a defeat or two, we cannot. If we are beaten our army will dissolve. Our first battle has to be a success, for only victory can cement this army together and make it strong for the hardships that are to come. We will reconvene tonight, at dusk. Pacorus, inform Castus to join us.’
‘Yes, lord,’ I saluted and turn to go.
‘And Pacorus,’ said Spartacus.’
‘Lord?’
‘Well done, your men are proving the asset I hoped they would be.’
‘Thank you, lord,’ I said, flashing a disdainful glance at Crixus, who again spat some food on the floor.
I ordered Nergal to inform the company commanders to assemble their men and wait for orders in the morning; Godarz was instructed to take an inventory of all our spare arrows, weapons, food stocks, fodder for the horses and to gather the carts and wagons that belonged to the cavalry. Castus had moved his men out of the crater of Vesuvius to a camp two miles to the south. One of the reasons he did so being the regular fights that broke out between the Gauls and Germans, some resulting in deaths. I wondered if the different nationalities that made up the army could ever learn to work together; if not, then we were surely doomed. I found Castus on the training ground, stripped to the waist and showing a group of recruits how to throw a javelin. I dismounted and embraced him; he had become a firm friend these past weeks and I enjoyed his company, and that of his pale-skinned, dark-haired warriors. I told him the news about the Romans.
‘It’s started, then. One thing’s for sure, there will be a lot of blood spilt before it’s over.’
All the captains of the various contingents of the army were present that night in Spartacus’ cavernous tent. Crixus was dressed in his war gear, a mail shirt, large round shield and his two-bladed axe. His two lieutenants, Dumnorix and Oenomaus, were similarly attired, though they wore swords at their waists. Castus and Cannicus wore captured Roman mail shirts and carried swords and daggers for weapons; they had no helmets. I brought Nergal and Burebista, who were both dressed in simple tunics and carried spathas in scabbards at their waist. I wore my white tunic and carried my helmet with its goose feathers. Spartacus sat behind his long table and did not invite us to sit, but merely examined us all in silence as we faced him across the table. Beside him stood his fellow Thracian Akmon, who eyed us like a raven examines a dead carcass. At last Spartacus spoke.