‘Any movement on the far bank?’ I asked their commander.
‘Not till now,’ he said, pointing his spear behind me. I turned to see a group of horsemen galloping down the roads towards the bridge. Their green shields indicated that we had met before.
‘Gafarn,’ I shouted, ‘get Gallia and Diana away from here.’
Gallia was indignant. ‘Why? They cannot fly across the river.’
‘I’ll show you why,’ I shouted, vaulting into Remus’ saddle and pulling my bow from its case. The Romans slowed their mounts when they reached the bridge, the horses walking onto the bridge and then halting, I strung an arrow and let it fly. It hit the foremost rider square in the chest, knocking his out of his saddle. The Thracians cheered wildly, though as I strung another arrow I saw a look of horror on Diana’s face and Gallia had gone deathly pale.
I turned to Gafarn. ‘Now get them out of here and back to camp.’ He grabbed the reins of their horses and led them away. The Romans turned and fled, though not before I had knocked another out of his saddle with a shot that hit the rearmost rider in the middle of his back. I ordered Godarz to ride to Spartacus’ headquarters to inform him of the news, and watched as Gallia and Diana rode off, while the Thracians looked decidedly nervous.
‘Don’t worry,’ I told them, ‘it’s just a scouting party.’
The remaining Romans halted a safe distance from the bridge, and they were soon joined by a score of others riding hard towards them. One was wearing an officer’s helmet with a rich red plume and a red cloak that billowed behind him. I nudged Remus onto the bridge and walked him to where the first arch had been knocked into the river. The Romans, stationary now, looked on as I held my bow aloft and then slowly and deliberately placed it back in its case. Then I waited. Remus flicked his white tail nonchalantly. The Roman officer suddenly kicked his heels into his horse’s sides and galloped towards me. He halted his mount on the far side of the damaged bridge and took off his helmet. I recognised him instantly.
‘Tribune Furius,’ I shouted, ‘are you intent on getting yourself killed?’
He looked at the two dead soldiers on the ground. ‘Enjoy your small victories, Parthian, you will be nailed to a cross soon enough.’
‘You conversations are becoming repetitive, Roman.’
‘That’s a fine horse you have stolen,’ he shouted back. ‘ I promise to take good care of him when you are dead.’
‘Thank you,’ I hollered, ‘but he’s coming to Parthia with me.’
‘You will never see Parthia, I promise that.’
I was getting bored and thus decided to bring this shouting match to an end. I raised my hand.
‘Until the next time, Roman.’ I turned Remus away and walked him back to where the Thracians stood. ‘How far do you think those other riders are from where we stand?’ I asked their commander.
‘Hard to tell, sir, about five hundred yards, maybe more.’
I turned Remus around to face the river and drew my bow.
‘You’ll never hit them from this distance,’ he said.
I looked at him, pulled an arrow from my quiver, strung it and took aim. Furius was riding back to his men when I loosed the arrow, which arched into the air and then curved back towards the ground. I don’t know if it pierced the mail shirt of the man it hit, but his horse reared up and he fell to the ground, spreading panic among the other rides. The Thracians cheered again.
‘Stay here,’ I told them. ‘Spartacus will send reinforcements.’
But Spartacus came himself, marching on foot at the head of a long column of troops, all well armed. The stubby legs of Akmon marched beside him.
‘It’s just a scouting party,’ I told him.
He shook his head. ‘Their army will be here tomorrow morning.’ He turned to Akmon. ‘We’ll break camp tonight and march through the night. Pacorus, I know it may pain you, but ride to Crixus and tell him that he must attack Forum Annii at first light. And tell him he has to take the town. I don’t want a garrison in front of me and an army behind me.’
I saluted and galloped away. The Gauls’ camp was a sprawling mass of makeshift canvas tents, wicker windbreaks and cooking fires, a far cry from the well-ordered camps of Spartacus and Castus, but it was far larger. As I rode among the shelters I saw men working frantically on constructing scaling ladders from tree branches. I had to admit that there was a real sense of urgency about them. Most ignored me as I rode to find their leader, though some gave me a menacing sideways glance as I passed. I found him stripped to the waist and wielding a large axe against the base of a tree. He was sweating profusely as he swung the weapon and cleaved another chunk of wood from the trunk. He stopped when he saw me. There was a large group of his warriors admiring his handiwork with an axe.
‘Well, if it isn’t the prince of Parthia. What do you want, boy?’
Gritting my teeth, I dismounted. ‘Greetings from Spartacus. The Romans are at the river. He asks that you lead your men up the mountain and attack the town at first light.’
The mention of the Romans aroused his curiosity, as he stopped what he was doing and even forget his animosity towards me. ‘How many?’
‘Just a cavalry patrol, but their army won’t be far behind.’
He called over Oenomaus. ‘Get everyone ready. We move this afternoon. Where’s that guide Spartacus promised me?’
‘He’s eating porridge outside your tent,’ said Oenomaus.
‘Bring him to me, I want to make sure he doesn’t run away before he serves his purpose. Go.’
His men dispersed, leaving us alone. The silence was awkward. Crixus, his muscled, bear-like torso covered in swirling blue tattoos, picked up a tunic and put it on.
‘It was brave of you to come alone, boy,’ he said at last, pouring water over himself from a bucket, ‘I hear you usually have to have your archers to back you up before you dare face a Gaul.’
He was obviously commenting on my disagreement with some of his men at the bridge. ‘Your men are indisciplined,’ I said, matching his stare.
He laughed. ‘All will be settled in time, Parthian. Now go and play with your horses.’
He picked up the axe, slung it on his shoulder and walked past me. I did not doubt that we would be settling the animosity between us soon enough, but not today.
It took hours for the army to get on the road leading to Forum Annii, not helped by the descending darkness and the steady rain that began to fall soon after dusk. Camp fires were stoked higher and left to burn to give the impression that we were staying put, but anyone with half a mind would have been able to tell that thousands of people and animals were on the move, the shouts and curses and hordes of individuals trying to get on the road and the bellowing and lowing of cattle. Byrd organised the packing of our equipment into carts that had been taken at Nola. The town, or rather its inhabitants, had been generous in supplying a large quantity of equipment for the cavalry, and now Byrd was stacking large buckets, pitch forks, brooms, wheelbarrows, halters, lead ropes, hoof picks, combs, brushes and saddle clothes onto a long line of carts. Another two carts were stacked high with spare arrows, which were covered with waterproof hides to keep the water off them. Byrd’s temper was rising as he became increasingly irritated by the apparent lack of progress a group of new recruits was making in getting the carts loaded. I told him to calm down, not least because the cavalry and its equipment would be the last to leave the camp, as we would form the rearguard.
Godarz, as usual, was taking everything in his stride. Having instructed Byrd to load the carts, he was now stood in front of a fire briefing two of my company commanders on what to pack on the mules that weren’t pulling carts.
‘Don’t overload them or they won’t move at all. And there’s no use in beating them. That will make them more obstinate. Treat them like your women and use soft words if you want to tease the best out of them.’
‘But I always thrash my women,’ said one cocky young Parthian in reply.