‘The Romans have farms where they breed slaves,’ she said. ‘Places where masters oversee the mating of selected pairs, and in the arena Romans watch chosen pairs butcher each other for their entertainment. It’s disgusting.’
‘Yes it is,’ I said.
She turned and faced me, determination etched on her face. ‘ I will never be a slave again. Promise me that if the worst happens you will kill me rather than let me be taken.’
‘What?’ I was horrified.
Her face showed steely resolve. ‘Promise me!’
‘I promise,’ I replied, though I also promised myself that I would also kill myself immediately afterwards. Where she went, I would follow. She kissed me lightly on the cheek.
‘Thank you.’
Having made such a solemn promise I should have gone to bed with a heavy heart, but all I could think about was her kiss.
The next day I saddled Remus early and waited for Spartacus. He came an hour after dawn accompanied by a man I did not recognise, but whom Spartacus informed me was a local guide who knew the area. I carried a waterskin and food in a saddlebag, plus my sword, dagger, bow and a quiver full of arrows. I also took Nergal and twenty other horsemen with us; who knows what we would encounter?
Spartacus was in high spirits as our horses wound their way up the mountain via narrow passes. The lower slopes were covered with shrubs, but as we climbed they gave way to chestnut and strawberry trees. These in turn gave way to magnificent beeches with trunks covered in lichens. I had never seen such lush vegetation, a far cry from the parched deserts of Parthia. Huge grey boulders jutted out from the green and yellow foliage, while through the treetops I saw goshawks flying overhead and heard the tapping of a woodpecker. It took us two hours of threading through wooded ravines and along and across foaming streams before we reached the summit, riding out onto a rock terrace that presented a stunning view of a wide, green valley below, one that extended as far as the eye could see.
It was a vast green plateau flanked by mountains, with white dots that were villas sprinkled across its extent. Below us, nestling on the plateau a few miles from the mountain we were looking down from, was a walled town. We had a perfect view of its layout of equally sized rectangular blocks of buildings, the whole bisected by straight roads. As usual there were four gates, with a main road running up to and through the town and across the plateau, disappearing into the distance. The lower slopes of the mountains were covered in trees, and the plateau itself was studied with olive groves. This was rich country indeed.
‘Beautiful, is it not?’ sighed Spartacus.
‘Yes, lord,’ I answered.
‘That town is Forum Annii, so my guide tells me. And in two days Crixus and his Gauls are going to take it.’
I was horrified. ‘They will burn it to the ground.’
‘Unhappily, you are right, but he’s been wanting to blood his men for some time now, and I would rather him and his men kill Romans than each other, or other members of my army,’ he looked pointedly at me. ‘The fact is, Pacorus, that your timely triumph gnaws away at Crixus, so I will give him what he wants, a chance to kill Romans.’
‘The man is an animal,’ I spat.
Spartacus laughed. ‘So am I, at least to a Roman, and so are you, my friend.’ It was the first time he had called me friend, and I was at that moment immensely proud. Whatever Spartacus was, he certainly knew how to win men over. ‘The point is that he is idle and angry and has six thousand Gauls who are likewise unoccupied. Besides, the Roman army will be here soon enough so some battle training will come in useful.’
After a brief rest and food to fill our stomachs we rode back to camp. Spartacus called a council of war in the early evening. Present were myself, Spartacus, Nergal, Burebista, Castus, Cannicus, Akmon, Crixus, Oenomaus and Dumnorix. Crixus ignored me throughout, but was delighted when Spartacus revealed his future plans.
‘We need to put some distance between us and Rome, and that means we have to head south, to the Gulf of Tarentum. There we can build and train the army for the march north next spring. Though Pacorus has delayed the advance of the Roman army,’ he nodded towards me, ‘there is no doubt that it will resume its march towards us. Therefore, we need to get over the mountain, onto the plateau and then head south. But before we can move we have to take the Roman town, Forum Annii, which stands in our way. Crixus, I want your men to take it.’
It was the first time that I saw the Gaul smile when he heard this, a giant leer with his eyes bulging at the prospect of plunder. ‘You can rely on us,’ he said, his men slapping him on the back by way of congratulations.
‘Now remember,’ continued Spartacus to us all, ‘the road we travelled down from Vesuvius goes round the mountain and leads to a pass that gives access to the high plateau. It will take two or three days for the army and its animals to get there, but only a few hours for Crixus to get his men up the mountain.’
‘What garrison does the town have?’ asked Castus.
‘Who cares about the garrison?’ said Crixus before Spartacus could reply, ‘they will die along with the rest.’
I looked at Spartacus but there was no expression on his face.
‘Listen,’ said Spartacus to Crixus. ‘You will need scaling ladders and maybe a battering ram. There are plenty of trees on the slopes, so make use of all the wood and get your men ready. They are to attack Forum Annii the day after tomorrow. Any questions?’
There were none.
The next day Crixus and his men went about cutting down wood with gusto, no doubt rehearsing on trees what they would be doing to people the day after. The Gauls were full of enthusiasm, I gave them that, but their coarse language and dishevelled appearance made me shudder. I went to see Castus during the morning as Godarz and Nergal sent out cavalry patrols to the river and allocated new recruits to companies. We had increased our number of horsemen by a hundred, but there was no time to train them in tactics or the use of the bow, so they were given a spear and told to obey their commanders. They wouldn’t be any use in battle, but if they survived the march to the sea they could be turned into cavalrymen.
Castus was in his usual good spirits, the more so because his command had been enlarged markedly by the march through Campania.
‘Four thousand Germans now, Pacorus,’ he said, proudly, ‘though only half have decent weapons. The rest have clubs and wooden spears. Still, it’s a start.’
‘Indeed it is,’ I was pleased for him. He was a good man and his men were under tighter control than Crixus’ Gauls.
‘There’s over thirty thousand in camp,’ he said. ‘Did you know?’
‘So I’ve heard.’
‘Southern Italy is nothing but farms and herds of animals, and who are the people who work in the fields and tend to the herds? Slaves.’
‘And gladiators,’ I said.
He smiled. ‘Them too.’
I rode to the Silarus River that afternoon with Gafarn, Gallia, Godarz and Diana. For some reason I was feeling morose and wanted some pleasant company. Its waters were black and fast flowing, and the sky was heaped with dark clouds. It was still warm, but the days were no longer hot and the nights were getting cooler. The Gauls had done a poor job destroying the bridge (why was I not surprised), and though the parapets had been knocked into the river only two of the five arches had been wholly demolished.
‘It won’t take the Romans long to rebuild it,’ Godarz must have been reading my mind.
‘How long do you think we’ve got?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘Two days at the most.’
I dismounted and walked over to a group of soldiers guarding the bridge. There were ten of them, all wearing mail shirts, helmets and carrying Roman shields, spears and swords. Thracians, I assumed by their long black hair and lack of hostility towards me.