We followed Byrd through the forest, climbing steadily until we reached the top of a large outcrop, one of several that dotted the immediate area. We crawled to the edge of the cliff and peered down. Below us was a large camp containing wooden huts, a fenced-off area filled with rows of tents, a stable block and big sheds where the silver was processed. The camp had been established next to a rock face, the whole area having been cleared of trees and foliage. There was a track leading from the camp. In the rock face itself were two large entrances to the mine, from which emerged periodically slaves hauling sledges piled with ore. Guards stood at the entrance to the camp, which was surrounded by a wooden fence, and at the entrances to the mine, and also at the entrance to the fenced-off area where the slaves who worked the mine were housed. The site echoed with the sounds of men barking orders, while overhead a pall of smoke hung over the camp.
We crawled away from the edge and then walked back to the men. Spartacus said nothing during the journey, though when we got back he collected the officers around him and announced that we would attack in the morning.
‘No fires tonight and we move before dawn,’ he told us. ‘Pacorus, leave the horses here under guard and put fifty of your men with bows on the cliff edge we were looking down from earlier. They are to kill as many Romans as they can from their vantage point while my men and the rest of your Parthians force the gate and take the camp.’
The plan seemed simple enough, though I wondered why we were bothering to capture a silver mine. He told me later as we sat huddled with our cloaks around us, as I leaned against the trunk of a tall pine. The night was cool and the sky clear, the moon casting a pale glow over the forest through the gaps in the treetops. Most of the men tried to snatch a few hours’ sleep, but Spartacus could not sleep and neither could I, though my insomnia was due to the cold and knots of bark digging into my back.
‘I thought we had captured large quantities of gold and silver,’ I said.
‘You can never have enough gold or silver,’ he said, grinning.
‘So we take the mine because we need more treasure? The army lives off the land, so why do we need the mine?’
‘To deprive the Romans of it, of course.’
I was confused. ‘To what ends?’
‘Deep vein mining they call it,’ he replied. ‘I remember talking to a gladiator back in Capua, a man who had worked in a similar mine before being sold to the ludus. He told me that the Romans only dig underground for gold and silver. The mine we saw today would have taken a lot of time and money to build and more to maintain. And silver mines don’t grow on trees, so to speak. So if we take it and threaten to destroy it then the rich owners, who you can bet live in Thurii, will be more amenable to talks.’
‘Talks?’ I queried.
‘Crixus wants nothing more than to storm the place and kill all the inhabitants, and the longer our desultory siege drags on the greater the clamour for him to try, especially among the Gauls. If he succeeds then he will try to take command from me. However, if I can cut the ground from beneath his feet then his power will wane.’
‘I thought he was a friend of yours.’
Spartacus looked directly at me. ‘Gladiators have no friends, at least not while they are fighting. The ludus is called a family, but it is really a brotherhood, in which we respect each other and promise that we would give those killed a decent burial, but you cannot be a friend to someone you might one day face in the arena. I respect Crixus because he is a good fighter and also uncomplicated. But he is all brawn and no brains and eventually that will be his undoing.’
‘I do not like him,’ I said.
‘And he dislike you, but you are in good company. He hates me as well.’
‘He does?’ I was shocked.
‘Of course, for I stand in the way of the one thing he desires?’
‘You mean Claudia?’
He laughed. ‘No, command of the army. Crixus wants to be a king with his own kingdom. He thinks the Romans can be brushed aside easily, leaving him to rule the whole of southern Italy. That’s the real reason he dislike you.’
‘Because I want to rule the south of Italy?’
He shook his head. ‘The cold has obviously addled your brain. No, because you already have a kingdom, or at least are an heir to one. And Crixus thinks that is most unfair.’
‘If he thinks at all,’ I added.
‘He will never leave Italy,’ said Spartacus, solemnly. ‘He exists to fight. He could have fought in the Roman Army, but he hates discipline and so he kills Romans instead. I assume all Gauls are like him.’
‘Not all, lord.’
‘Gallia is unique, I agree. You think to take her back to Parthia with you?’
I flushed with embarrassment. ‘I had not thought that far ahead, lord.’
‘I wager she has. She’s a smart one, beautiful too. And now she’s good with a bow. She’ll take some taming.’
‘I don’t want to tame her, lord.’
‘Very sensible, for I doubt any man can. Anyhow, that’s one Gaul who wants to be with you.’
‘Really?’
‘Claudia told me, though you are not to say that I told you.’
I felt elated and could have shouted out loud. The cold and discomfort fled from me as I mulled his words in my mind over and over again.
We left the horses and a few guards two hours before dawn and moved slowly through the trees, two hundred Thracians carrying shields and pila and nearly two hundred horse archers with full quivers with swords at their hips. A handful we left behind to guard the horses. We moved slowly so as to make as little noise as possible, but even though our eyes had grown accustomed to the moon-washed night, the shadows cast by the trees meant some tripped over tree roots and dead branches lying on the forest floor. Byrd led us. I noticed Spartacus was very light on his feet and seemed to be weightless as he moved through the trees. I followed him and the rest of the men followed me in a long column behind. It seemed an eternity before we neared the camp, and by then I was both cold and hungry. I knelt beside Spartacus and we waited until the last of our men had arrived. He called the officers to him and we had an impromptu council of war. He talked in a hushed voice as he told us his plan of attack. Fifty archers would provide covering fire from the top of the rock outcrop that we had used to observe the camp. Byrd led these men to their positions.
We stealthily approached the gates to the mine, which were nothing more than crude barriers made from cut-down trees flanked by two wooden platforms, on each of which stood a guard. The gates and the fence were obviously designed to keep people in, not attackers out. But then that was no surprise, being in the heart of Italy. Spartacus and I moved to the edge of the treeline that surrounded the mine.
‘Think you and one or your men can kill those guards with the first arrow?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Do you want them shot through the neck so they don’t make a sound.’
‘Don’t get cocky, just drop them and we’ll rush the gate.’
I tapped one of my men on the shoulder and we moved into position, either side of a tree facing the gates. The distance was about two hundred feet, maybe less. In the eastern sky the first hint of dawn was appearing, barely discernible cracks of red and orange. Bozan had always told me that the best time to surprise the enemy was as the dawn was breaking, when men involuntarily eased after seeing through another night. Subconsciously the arrival of a new day made the mind relax after the tension of the darkness, when the black could hide a host of enemies. Day means light, warmth and safety. ‘Hit them when dawn breaks,’ he once told me, ‘and your victory will be swift.’ I eased back the bowstring and released the arrow; the other archer did the same. The arrows made little sound as they each struck their targets. My man was leaning against the wooden rail on the platform, wrapped in his cloak with his shield propped up against the same rail. He was rubbing his hands together and peering at the interior of the camp. My arrow struck him in the middle of his back, sending him sprawling onto the platform. The second sentry was standing leaning on his shield looking towards the forest when the arrow hit him in the right shoulder, sending him spinning off the platform and landing on the ground with a crump.