There was a stunned silence. We all looked at each other in confusion, and for once even Crixus was lost for words. Castus frowned, Akmon was bemused and Godarz sat stroking his chin.
‘Spend it, lord?’ I said.
‘That’s right. Buy something useful with it, things that can help us in our mission to get out of this Roman-infested land.’
‘And where are you going to purchase these items?’ said Crixus, burping loudly as he finished his cup.
‘From Thurii, of course,’ replied Spartacus, straight faced.
‘You’re joking of course,’ said Crixus. ‘You’ve dragged us over here for no other reason than to ridicule us.’
‘Not all at,’ said Spartacus. ‘it makes perfect sense. We will make an offer to the rulers of the city. We will pay handsomely for the things that we require, and in return the city’s merchants will grow fat and we will not burn the place to the ground.’
‘The plan has merits,’ said Godarz.
‘Merits!’ bawled Crixus. ‘It’s madness. They will probably cut the head off the poor bastard who has to deliver your message, like they did at Metapontum, and then I had to attack and exact vengeance. That’s the only language the Romans understand.’
‘They also understand the language of wealth and commerce,’ replied Spartacus, calmly. ‘But I think they will listen to the man I will send to bargain with them.’
‘Bargain? I’ll wager that his head will end up on a spike on the city walls,’ added Crixus. ‘Who is the poor wretch?’
Spartacus looked at me. ‘I intend to send Pacorus to negotiate our terms.’
Crixus clapped his hands in delight. ‘On the other hand, perhaps your plan does have merit.’
All eyes were on me, watching for my reaction. ‘What say you, Pacorus?’ said Spartacus, ‘will you accept this challenge? I do not command, only ask.’
Castus looked alarmed but said nothing, whereas Crixus and Dumnorix looked delighted. Godarz was shaking his head at me and Akmon was admiring the cup he was drinking from and clearly intent on avoiding my stare. I had to accept, of course, for not to do so would be a fatal loss of face. Spartacus knew this, but I don’t think he was putting me in this position out of malice. He knew that he had to keep on winning or he and his army would be destroyed. But he also did not become the commander of this army by not being ruthless. I believed that he both liked and respected me, but by placing me in this position he was also showing that he would stop at nothing to achieve victory.
‘I will do as you ask, lord,’ I replied.
‘Thank you, Pacorus. Upon your shoulders rests the hopes of the whole army.’
‘And don’t worry,’ added Crixus, ‘when they lop your head off, I promise to find it afterwards and give it a decent burial.’
‘If that happens, Crixus,’ said Spartacus, ‘then you and your Gauls will be the first to assault the city, and we will keep on assaulting the walls until we have battered them down stone by stone. And then we will pull down the buildings brick by brick. This I swear.’
Afterwards Spartacus pulled me aside and spoke to me.
‘I hope you do not think that I do not hold your life dear, Pacorus.’
‘No, lord.’
‘This plan either succeeds or I will be forced to attack the city. If we attack we will lose thousands.’
‘I will do my best to bring you success.’ I said.
‘Remember, the Romans are ruthless but they are also a pragmatic people.’
I doubted that, but I knew that we could not remain idle before this Roman city forever. In the next two days Godarz briefed me on what to expect when I met the city’s officials, if I met the city’s officials! He told me that each major city was ruled by a municipal council called a curia, which was named after the Roman Senate itself. This council administered the food supply, public services, religious festivities, town finance and local building projects. The silver mine, though, would be owned by the Senate in Rome itself, as its valuable ore was used to pay for the legions fighting in foreign lands. Nevertheless, it would be administered on behalf of Rome’s Senate by a powerful local individual, who presumably was resident in the city. I asked whether it was a possibility that the city’s élite would have fled the city by boat, but Godarz assured me that Roman civic leaders usually prided themselves on their courage and their responsibility to the citizens they ruled over, and as such they would never want to be seen fleeing the city. Godarz also told me that Roman civic leaders often built public baths and other buildings at their own expense, both as a sign of their wealth to the lower orders and as a display of power to their fellow senators, who were often bitter rivals.
I decided that I would look my best to meet the dignitaries of Thurii; after all, I was a member of the Parthian aristocracy and therefore a representative of the empire, albeit in strange circumstances. Therefore I wore a white tunic edged with blue, a silk vest underneath, leather boots, brown leggings, my Roman helmet with a new goose feather plume and a white cloak. Nergal said I should have refused to be an envoy, as did Burebista, though Godarz, rational as ever, suggested that it was probably the best hope to resolve the situation quickly, and he added that there was no guarantee that an assault would succeed in any case. He said Spartacus probably knew this and that’s why he wanted to find another way out of his predicament. And he had no interest in taking a city that he would have to abandon come the spring when we marched north. All things considered, therefore, it seemed perfectly sensible to treat with the city. I just hoped that the city was in a reciprocal mood. The one good thing about my new mission was that Gallia was greatly concerned that I might be killed and became very tactile, linking arms and resting her head on my shoulder as we walked through the cavalry camp in the early evening. I have to confess that I deliberately played on her fears, which served to tighten her grip on my arm and send my spirits soaring.
‘It was unfair of Spartacus to ask you to go.’
‘The interests of the many outweigh the interests of the few,’ I said solemnly.
‘The Romans may kill you.’
I shrugged. ‘That can happen any time in battle.’
‘But you will not be in battle, you will be alone.’
I stopped and faced her. ‘If I have your affection, I will never be alone.’
Her eyes filled with tears and I moved closer to her to kiss her, but she instead threw her arms around me and embraced me in a vice-like grip. Failed again!
‘Promise me you will be careful,’ she whispered.
‘Of course,’ I replied, finding it difficult to breathe.
That night Spartacus sent a messenger to the city walls, a man on horseback who shouted up at the western gatehouse, announcing that we would be sending an envoy in the morning to open negotiations that would be mutually beneficial. The messenger was not shot by an arrow, which was hopeful at least. But then the Romans could have simply ignored him.
The morning dawned bright and sunny, though because it was winter the air was cool and I felt chilly. I ate breakfast in my tent with those who I held dear for company. They included Gallia, Diana, Praxima, whom I had grown to like as she kept Nergal very happy, Byrd, Gafarn, Godarz and Burebista. Rubi sat on a stool behind Gallia, hissing at all the men. The mood was subdued and everyone ate little, but I was glad of their company. Afterwards I told Nergal that he would command the cavalry in the event of my death. I emphasised to him that his over-riding duty was to get those in his charge back to their homelands, and himself and the rest of my Parthians back to Hatra. Gallia sat white-faced at the table as I told her that she would have Remus if I failed to return. There was nothing else to say. I stood and buckled on my sword belt and went outside.