‘Perhaps,’ I said.
‘Oh, Pacorus. To you it’s just a game, isn’t it? But it’s not about honour or glory, it’s about survival. We are fighting for our lives. What are you fighting for?’
I could have tried to give her a deep, philosophical answer, but I smiled at her and said. ‘For you.’
‘You’re impossible,’ she replied, sticking out her tongue at me and going back to Rubi.
Nergal came to us two days later, brimming with excitement and full of tales of how he and his men had laid waste to the land with fire and sword. The flame-haired Praxima was with him, dressed in a mail shirt, helmet and carrying a shield and spear. Nergal also had a column of mules loaded with treasure with him. Praxima nodded to me curtly (doubtless she had heard about my disapproval of her) but embraced Gallia and Diana warmly. That night we slaughtered a bull that had been plundered from a nearby estate and roasted it over a huge fire on the beach. The wind had dropped and the evening was warm as we ate and drank with abandon, though I was careful not to drink too much wine. To my delight Gallia came and sat beside me as Gafarn, who had appointed himself chief cook for the evening, cut slices from the roasting carcass.
‘They seem happy,’ I said of the men who were laughing and joking in groups on the sand.
‘Yes, they do. Are you happy, Pacorus?’
‘Always, when I’m with you,’ I kissed her on the cheek.
She rested her head on her shoulder. ‘I too.’
The both of us stayed on the beach until the dawn broke in the eastern sky, along with dozens of snoring drunk and semi-drunk soldiers who woke with hangovers on a calm and windless day. I felt a surge of joy sweep through me as I became aware of Gallia’s head on my chest as she slept. I wanted the moment to last forever as, bleary eyed, I watched the seagulls fly and hover over a calm blue sea. Perhaps this could be our future, just the two of us and no one else, no Romans and no wars. I dreamed of perfection but out of the corner of my eye I saw reality, as one of my men bent over and threw up on the sand. Others held their heads, which were obviously throbbing after a night of heavy drinking. The price of ‘liberating’ wine from the Romans. Others stripped off and walked naked into the sea in an attempt to refresh themselves. I rested my head back on the sand and looked up at the clear blue sky. Suddenly the panting figure of Rubi was beside us, frantically tugging at Gallia’s sleeve, who woke up with a start. Rubi was making grunting noises and pointing behind us. She was almost as tiresome as Praxima.
‘What is it, Rubi?’ asked Gallia, who rose and brushed the sand from her clothes.
I too rose and turned to see what she was pointing at, and saw on the horizon what looked like a column of horse and foot on a distant crest of a hill, heading towards us. Panic suddenly gripped me as I realised that no sentries had been posted the night before. How could I have so stupid, again? This was just like the day when we had been captured. Had I learned nothing? Perhaps that old Roman at the villa had pursued me with a town garrison? I cursed myself and reached down for my sword, hurriedly buckling it to my belt.
‘Enemy! Enemy forces approaching! Rally to me,’ I screamed at all who would listen.
For a few seconds nothing happened, apart from a few dazed individuals staring at me with irritation as my shrieking voice added to their headaches. Then their fuddled minds grasped the significance of what I was saying, and suddenly the beach was a scene of chaos. Men waded ashore to grab weapons and clothing and race to where their horses were tethered. Others still asleep were kicked awake, pulled to their feet and told to saddle their horses. Gallia and I ran to where our horses were, Gallia pulling Rubi along with her, who bizarrely seemed to be loving the sense of impending doom that was spreading over us. I threw a cloth and saddle onto Remus’ back, buckled the straps and then fitted his bridle. Gafarn and Diana emerged from behind a distant sand dune, both of them running fit to burst. I ran to the top of a nearby dune to see where the enemy was, and spied a solid mass of foot steadily marching towards our position, no more than three miles away, I guessed. The enemy horse was flanking each side of the column of foot, with a small mounted party at the head of the whole force.
Nergal galloped up to us as I fastened my waterskin, rations, bow case and rolled-up cloak to the saddle. I threw on my mail shirt, helmet and quiver and mounted Remus.
‘There are hundreds of them, highness,’ he said.
‘We have to get off the beach. Form up inland on firm ground.’
‘What about the carts and mules?’
‘Leave them here,’ I said. ‘They will only slow us up. Better to live than die with a saddlebag stuffed full of gold. Go.’
We managed to deploy into a two-rank line a short distance inland from the beach, facing the direction from where the enemy was approaching. The latter had made no effort to increase their pace or deploy into battle formation. Indeed, they seemed oblivious to us. As I sat just forward of the first line beside Nergal, I debated our course of action. Though we had been surprised, the enemy had failed to take advantage of this. As they heavily outnumbered us I decided that the most prudent course of action would be a hasty retreat, though it galled me that we would have to leave the booty we had taken. I was just about to turn about when Nergal spoke.
‘They have no shields.’
‘What’ I said.
‘They have no shields, highness. In fact, those on foot don’t have weapons at all, or uniforms.’
I stared at the black mass approaching and he was right. No shields, no spears and they were not wearing helmets. Then one of the horsemen broke from the group at the head of the column and began to gallop towards us.
‘Ready!’ I shouted. It was obviously some sort of fanatic who wanted to make a name for himself. He would be the first to die.
‘It’s Burebista,’ said Nergal.
‘What?’
‘It’s Burebista.’ Nergal kicked his horse forward and rode to greet him, while behind me the two lines erupted in cheers. I too rode forward to meet the commander of my last raiding column. He was beaming like a man who had found a chest of gold.
‘We thought you were Romans,’ I told him. ‘Who are those with you?’
‘Recruits, lord,’ he replied. ‘All these men can ride so I asked them to join us.’
‘And they accepted your invitation?’ I looked past Burebista to where the column was trudging towards us. They looked a ragged band to say the least.
‘I told them that they would be serving under “the Parthian”. They have all heard of you, lord, and I told them that they would have a horse, weapons and an unending supply of Romans to kill. They took little convincing.’
I doubted that all of them could ride, but no matter, he had done well. Burebista had an infectious enthusiasm that drew men to him like a moth to a flame.
‘How many are there’ asked Nergal.
‘Seven hundred,’ he replied, proudly.
I extended my hand in congratulations. He had done better than any of us and deserved praise. And now he had his dragon.
‘Has there been a battle?’ he said to me though he was looking past me.
‘Battle?’
‘There, lord,’ he pointed behind me. I turned in the saddle to see a large plume of black smoke ascending into the morning sky. It was many miles away but it could mean only thing: Metapontum had fallen to Spartacus.
After a rest of two hours, during which we groomed, watered and fed the horses and ate a late breakfast, we moved southwest along the coast towards Metapontum. The terrain was flat and crisscrossed by large fields growing wheat, olives and grapes, though the wheat had already been harvested and only the olives and grapes remained. But there was no one to do so, as the slaves had all fled to join us or make their own bid for freedom. I noticed the absence of cattle and sheep, all of which had no doubt been taken on the orders of Spartacus. I sent out patrols ahead, more to cover our right flank and riders behind us to ensure we were not surprised, but in truth there appeared to be no Roman troops anywhere near us; indeed, there appeared to be few Romans of any type at all. I wondered if those who had lived in villas in the countryside had taken refuge in Metapontum? The thickening large plume of smoke that hung in the sky indicated that they had chosen unwisely.