He slapped me hard on the shoulder. ‘Not a scratch on you. Did you see any fighting?’
‘Not as much as you, obviously,’ I said.
‘Some bastard Roman tried to shove his sword through my eye but I skewered him first. It was bloody work at first, then they broke and suddenly I was running as fast as a hare trying to catch the bastards. They dropped their weapons and ran. Amazing.’ I think some of my boys are still running after them. I left Cannicus to sort them out and bring them back in. Thought I should report to Spartacus, if he’s here that is.’
Behind us I could hear the distinctive growl of Akmon. ‘Pick your feet up. Just because you’ve enjoyed a bit of butchery doesn’t mean you can slouch.’
We moved aside as he passed, leading a large column of his Thracians that had been chasing after the fleeing Romans. Behind him, being carried on a litter, was the body of a dead Roman.
‘Still alive, then,’ he called to us. ‘You two might want to have a look at this.’
‘Where is Spartacus?’ I asked.
‘In his tent, being patched up by his woman, I suppose.’
‘He is hurt?’ asked Castus, in alarm.
‘Nothing serious,’ replied Akmon.
Later, in camp, we found Claudia stitching Spartacus’ left arm with a needle and twine, the big Thracian sat in a chair drinking wine as she did so. He seemed annoyed rather than in pain. He nodded to myself and Castus as we entered, then frowned as the litter carrying the dead Roman was brought in and placed on the floor in front of him.
‘I don’t want dead bodies in my tent,’ said Claudia.
‘Pardon, lady,’ said Akmon, ‘but this dead body is important.’
‘Who is it?’ asked Spartacus.
Akmon handed Spartacus a scroll covered in blood. ‘We found him face down with an arrow in his back and this in the saddlebag of his horse. Says his name is Consul Publius Varinius, charged by the people and senate of Rome to destroy the slave rebellion.’
Spartacus got out of his chair and examined the body, which was laid face down on the litter.
‘That’s my arrow, I think,’ I said.
‘Well,’ smiled Spartacus, ‘it would appear that Pacorus has killed a consul.’
‘What’s a consul?’ I said.
‘Like a king,’ replied Spartacus.
‘They’ll not take this lightly,’ sniffed Akmon.
‘No indeed,’ said Spartacus, straightening and wincing in pain. ‘Cut the head off and stick it on a pole a mile down the road.’
‘Can you take it away now,’ said Claudia, ‘it’s disgusting.’
Spartacus signalled for the bearers to haul it away, then sat back down and held his left arm.
‘Getting slow in your old age?’ said Akmon.
‘I’ll never be as slow as you, Akmon. There’s wine on the table.’
We greeted Claudia and helped ourselves to the drink.
‘Castus, pass my thanks on to your men,’ said Spartacus, ‘they did well today.’
‘Thank you, lord.’
‘Yours too, Pacorus,’ he added, ‘though I thought that volley of arrows you fired before we charged was going to land on us. I would have preferred some warning’
‘My men now how to shoot, lord,’ I said.
‘Anyhow, Crixus and his men are still chasing the Romans, I believe. Tomorrow there will be a council of war. There is much to do. Do we have any idea of casualties?’
‘Most of my men are still pursuing Romans,’ I said, ‘but I believe we suffered few losses.’
‘Cannicus is taking a count of my men now,’ said Castus.
‘One thing’s for sure’ added Akmon, ‘the Romans have suffered more than us.’
Indeed they had. Nergal and Burebista came in three hours later, to rapturous applause from the camp. The men’s horses were lathered in sweat and some had wounds. I ordered that they be attended to immediately. Nergal’s hair was matted with sweat and grime and his face was dirty, but he was beaming with pleasure as he told me of his pursuit of the Romans and the accompanying slaughter. He threw a Roman standard, a pole with a square red flag near the top, at my feet, as did Burebista.
‘We found these lying on the ground, highness,’ said Nergal.
‘You have both done well, this is your victory,’ I replied. ‘Get your horses seen to and then get some food inside you. Then you can both take these standards to Spartacus, with my compliments.’
Nergal beamed and Burebista reached over and slapped him on the back. There is nothing more infectious as victory.
Our own losses amounted to five dead and thirty wounded, none seriously. All the dead were brought back to camp and cremated that night on a huge pyre, the flames lancing high into the darkness. All the camp gathered to pay their respects and I said a silent prayer to Shamash for bringing us victory. I stood next to Gallia and watched the bodies of our comrades being consumed by fire. She had combed her hair and changed into a loose-fitting green tunic and brown leggings. Praxima and Diana had likewise changed and no longer looked like women warriors, rather examples of feminine beauty. Diana stood between Gallia and Gafarn, Praxima, her arms around Nergal’s waist, next to Gallia.
‘That could have been you,’ I whispered into Gallia’s ear as we watched the flames.
‘Or you,’ she hissed.
‘It’s my task to fight, not yours.’
‘You are not mine to command,’ she said.
‘I do not command. I ask.’
The timber crackled as the flames ate away at it, spewing cinders into the sky.
‘And I ask you for the right to fight at your side.’ She turned to look at me, her eyes pleading and her voice seductive. ‘You would not deny me that right, would you? We are friends, are we not?’
I knew I would never win this argument, so I told her that we would discuss it at another time. Despite my aches and pains I could not sleep that night, so in the early hours I dressed and walked out of the camp, beyond where the guards were pacing to where the battle had taken place. There was silence now, for those who had been detailed to collect our wounded and kill any injured Romans they found, had finished their tasks. Better a quick death from a slit throat than being tortured by Crixus’ Gauls, I thought. The dead would be stripped tomorrow and the weapons of the Roman army collected. It should be a rich haul, and would go a long way to fully equipping our army.
I don’t know how long I walked for, but I suddenly became aware that it was cold. The clouds had departed to leave a clear, moonlit night. I gathered my cloak around me and then saw a solitary figure standing like a statue ahead. I made sure I had attached my sword before I walked towards him. As I drew closer I recognised the strong profile and board shoulders of Spartacus.
‘Lord?’
As fast as lightning he turned and drew his sword to face me, then relaxed as he saw who it was.
‘Couldn’t sleep either, eh?’
‘No, lord. How is your arm?’
‘It’s just a scratch.’
He replaced his sword in its scabbard, and then turned to stare into the distance once more.
‘Hard to believe there was a battle here. It’s so quiet.’
I looked at the corpses heaped on the ground as far as the eye could see.
‘A grim harvest,’ I mused.
He smiled. ‘This is nothing compared to what is coming. Until now the Romans thought that they were dealing with a few ill-armed slaves. But after today they know that they have a real war on their hands. From this point on they will be hell-bent on avenging the gross insult we have dealt them. When news reaches Rome of their defeat they will send a new army, and it will be larger and better led.’