‘I thought I would never see you again,’ she said. I did not tell her that I had entertained the same thought.
We walked back to the others where Spartacus and Claudia embraced me. As a group of soldiers fastened the poles back into place, we all walked back to Spartacus’ tent, Gallia holding onto to me tightly. On the way I told them about the meeting, about Quintus Hortonius and that I believed they would accept our offer, though it may come at a high price. When I told Spartacus about the demands for rent he burst into laughter. Godarz simply said that pragmatism was an integral part of Roman nature and they were never averse to turning a profit. Spartacus remarked that as long as they supplied what we needed, it mattered little how much gold and silver they wanted as we had taken it from the Romans in the first place. I told him about the garrison commander, Titus Sextus, and how he had wanted to refuse our offer, but Spartacus believed that practicality would triumph over a fool’s lust for glory.
The city agreed to our offer. Senator Hortonius told me of their decision the next morning at the appointed hour. He walked out of the western gates, across the bridge and met me halfway between the city and the palisade (a part of which had again been dismembered to allow me through). He came alone and unarmed, a sign of his trust in me I liked to think. He informed me that Sextus had been vehemently opposed to any deal but had been over-ruled by the governor and Marcus Aristius, who had been seduced by the prospect of a handsome profit. The senator told me that no goods would be exchanged via the city gates, but would instead be shipped to a stretch of beach five miles south of the city where the waters were calm and boats could come and go with ease. He and the others must have spent many hours thrashing out the details of the agreement, for at the end of our meeting he handed me a scroll, upon which were listed the days and times when deliveries would be made, the persons who would supervise the offloading of supplies and the payments for the metals we needed. Deliveries were to made on the second day of every week, at two hours after dawn (a time he seemed to like) and I was to be present at each delivery. He also informed me that the prices for the goods we required were listed on the scroll. Before he left, I told him that I wanted to add a thousand saddles to our list of wants. He smiled and told me he would pass on my request to Marcus Aristius.
A week later the first shipment of iron came ashore at the inlet at the rearranged time. There were four boats, vessels with symmetrical hulls. The sides of their hulls were protected by wales and had wing-like projections that protected the side rudders. They had a cabin at the rear. Also at the stern were the two steering oars, which were controlled by a tiller. Unlike warships, these vessels were powered by means of a single large square sail. Under the terms of the agreement neither side was permitted to have armed soldiers present, so I stood on the beach along with fifty of my men in tunics plus fifty more who waited on a dozen carts, one of which was loaded with a chest of gold, on a track that ran off the sands. The day was calm with a slight wind, the sea as smooth as a pond. The vessels came into the shallow waters and their crews heaved anchors over the side. Then they stood still in the water, their crews peering us. I decided to grasp the bull by the horns and walked into the sea and waded over to the first vessel. The water was shallow and barely came up to my chest. A burly man with a ragged beard and a large grizzled face squinted at me from above. His massive, tattooed forearms rested on the gunwale.
‘Are you the Parthian?’
‘I am.’
‘You’d better bring those carts into the water and alongside each boat. How many have you got?’
‘A dozen,’ I replied.
More than enough. What about the payment?’
‘Loaded on one of the carts.’
He gestured behind him. ‘There’s an official from the city on board who’s to check everything is in order. We might as well start.’
It took us all morning to load the iron onto the carts and load the four chests of gold bars onto the ships. The captain’s eyes lit up as I lifted the lid of the first chest and showed him and the pale and slightly effeminate clerk who had been sent by Marcus Aristius to oversee the exchange of goods. The clerk, no doubt a slave, showed no emotion as he meticulously counted the number of bars in each chest. I was standing beside the captain when the chests were hauled aboard by means of a winch and he saw me looking at the clerk.
‘A eunuch, that one,’ he sniffed in disgust.
‘What?’
‘They would have lopped off his crown jewels years ago. They like to do that with slaves. Keeps them docile, you see.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘If they catch you lot they’ll do far worse.’ He looked at me intently. ‘They say you’re a prince.’
‘That’s right,’ I replied.
‘Then what are you doing with a load of runaways?’
‘It’s a long story.’
He pulled me to one side. ‘I’ve been a sailor all my life and I know the way the winds blow, and I’m telling you that all of you will end up dead. The Romans are unforgiving bastards and they will want revenge for what you’ve done.’
‘You’re not a Roman?’
‘No, no,’ he protested, ‘I’m Cretan. They just hire me and my crew when they need us. If you give me a crate of gold I’ll take you where you want to go, no questions asked.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ I said dismissively.
He moved closer so no one could hear. ‘Don’t dismiss the offer too lightly, it’s better than being nailed to a cross. Just get yourself down to the docks in Thurii and ask for Athineos. Everyone knows me.’
‘Like I said, I’ll bear it mind.’
After the clerk had tallied everything to his satisfaction, I said farewell to Athineos and we headed back to camp. The iron was taken to a vast clearing that had been made in the forest at the base of the mountains. The chopped wood was used to build roofs to shelter the furnaces that would be used to forge the swords, javelins and spearheads. Slaves who had been used to produce agricultural tools could just as easily turn their hands to making weapons, their years of hammering metals on anvils made them experts in creating blades that were neither too brittle or too soft. In the clearing lines of furnaces were established, each one a having a wide, low chimney with an opening at the bottom to supply the fire with air. The furnaces were filled with charcoal (which itself had been made from the cut-down trees), which heated the iron bars until they glowed red. The bars were then removed from the white heat of the fire and hammered into shape on an anvil. Any brittle metal left on the bar would shatter as it was hammered into shape, showering the smith’s leather apron and his forearms with red-hot splinters. The blade was then quenched in a barrel of brine, to produce a steel blade that would make a gladius. Spartacus told me, as we were watching teams of smiths heat the iron in the furnaces and others hammering glowing metal on anvils, that some Romans liked to quench a new blade in the body of a living slave to make the steel harder, or so they believed.
Once each blade was finished being forged, it was taken to the finishing sheds where it was sharpened with files, hand scrapers and natural stone. Each sword blade was double-edged with a flat diamond cross-section, without grooves or fullers. Then it was sent to another shed where the handle was attached. These were intricate affairs. The hilt itself was made of wood with a thin brass plate set into the bottom of the guard, with a round pommel. While this process was going on other workers made the scabbards, which were two pieces of wood covered with thin leather. I marvelled at the level of activity, which went on day and night as the efforts to arm all our troops intensified. I got talking to one old smith, whose arms were covered with burn scars, who told me that it took about a week to produce a finished sword.