As we rode into the Thracian camp columns of soldiers were marching out, rank upon rank of men carrying shields, javelins and wearing mail shirts and helmets. Marching out for another day’s relentless drill practice. Train hard, fight easy; learn drills and commands until they become second nature, until you can carry them out them without thinking, even do them in your sleep. Warfare is thus reduced to its most basic and simple: long periods of boredom interspersed with shorter periods of organised terror.
The council gathered in Spartacus’ tent as usual, though when we entered there was an air of gloom hanging over the gathering. Spartacus sat resting his chin on his right arm, Akmon fidgeted with his cup and Castus was shaking his head. Crixus looked defiant.
Spartacus nodded at me then looked at Crixus. ‘Crixus, perhaps you would like to tell Pacorus your news, I’m sure he will be interested.’
‘Why?’ growled the Gaul. ‘I’ve told everyone who’s important.’
‘Crixus and his Gauls are leaving the army,’ said Spartacus to me. My heart leapt and I struggled to suppress a smile.
‘Madness,’ added Akmon, ‘sheer madness.’
‘I speak for my people,’ said Crixus, ‘and their desire is for us to leave this place.’
‘And go where, Crixus? asked Spartacus. ‘We march north to get out of Italy, but where will you march to? Have you forgotten about the Romans, for it is certain that they have not forgotten about you.’
‘We, and I, have no desire to go back to Gaul,’ said Crixus, angrily. ‘It is under the heel of Rome so why should we fight to get back to a place that is full of Roman soldiers?’
‘There are other places,’ said Castus.
‘What, Germany?’ retorted Crixus, ‘a land of damp, dark forests. I would rather live in the sun. We will stay in Italy.’
Everyone save Crixus and Dumnorix, his ragged-haired second-in-command, were stunned.
‘Italy! You are truly insane,’ said Spartacus, holding out his arms in a gesture of exasperation.
Crixus jumped up. ‘Who are you to say what we can or cannot do?’
I suspected that we were approaching the real reason for the Gauls’ decision. ‘You talk a lot about freedom, about every man being free to follow his own conscience. But when it comes to it, we are mere subjects for you to order about. We have sat here for months doing nothing when we could have been conquering land and killing Romans. You have become like a king, Spartacus.’ He pointed at me. ‘You even surround yourself with princes. Well, I say no more, and so do my people.’
He sat back down and there was an awkward silence. Eventually Spartacus spoke.
‘If you stay in Italy you will die, Crixus. That much is certain.’
Crixus laughed. ‘All death is certain. That’s what I was told at the ludus, and I survived that. We can destroy anything they send against us.’
Clearly there was no telling Crixus anything and so Spartacus gave up. I certainly was not going to attempt to dissuade him.
‘Akmon,’ said Spartacus. ‘Please give us a summary of the army’s condition.’
Akmon unrolled a scroll placed on the table in front of him and read it aloud.
‘We have fully trained twenty thousand Thracians, ten thousand Germans, four thousand Spaniards, three thousand cavalry and fourteen thousand Gauls, soon to depart from us. Concerning weapons and armour, fully four-fifths of the soldiers have weapons, shields and armour. The rest either have no armour or a helmet only, but all have a weapon of some description.’
‘Are all your cavalry fully armed, Pacorus?’ asked Spartacus.
‘All are armed, lord, but a third are without helmets or mail shirts.’
‘Does that include the women?’ sneered Crixus, prompting Dumnorix to snigger beside him.
‘Mock all you want,’ I replied, ‘I am glad to have them fighting with me.’
‘Enough,’ snapped Spartacus. ‘Crixus, you and your men will leave in two days. I see no reason for you to stay if you desire to leave.’
Crixus rose from his chair and bowed. ‘As your majesty desires,’ then walked out of the tent. That was the last time I saw him alive. Dumnorix followed him and when they had left I stretched myself out in the chair and sighed deeply. ‘Alas for Crixus.’
‘I thought you would be pleased,’ said Spartacus.
‘We’ve just lost a quarter of the army,’ said Godarz, dejectedly.
‘And good fighters,’ added Akmon.
‘Is there anyone else who wishes to follow Crixus?’ Spartacus looked at each of us in turn. No one spoke.
‘Very well. We will be departing in two weeks’ time. We will burn all we cannot take with us. Akmon, see to it that the mine is destroyed.’
‘What about the Romans who are working in it?’ asked his subordinate.
Spartacus shrugged. ‘Break each man’s right arm and then let them go.’
‘You’re not going to kill them?’ Castus looked surprised.
‘Have no fear, Castus,’ replied Spartacus, ‘you’ll soon have enough Romans to keep you busy. When we march we will strike east then north, along the east coast of Italy. We will have the Apennine Mountains between us and Rome, which will give us time.’
‘What garrisons are we likely to encounter?’ said Castus.
‘I do not know,’ replied Spartacus, ‘but town garrisons won’t be able to stop us. I’m more worried about the legions that will be sent after us. Some are probably marching south at this moment.’
‘I have had scouts out as far as Metapontum, lord,’ I said, ‘and they have seen no Romans.’
‘They’ll be coming from Rome, down the west-coast road,’ mused Spartacus, ‘the same road we used to get here. That’s why I want to go east. But keep your scouts out, Pacorus, we don’t want any nasty surprises.’
‘We’ve already had one nasty surprise,’ grumbled Akmon. ‘losing a quarter of the army.’
Spartacus rose from his chair. ‘There’s no point in worrying over what we cannot change. If Crixus and his men want to get themselves killed, so be it, and while the Romans are busy fighting him we might have a chance to hasten our escape out of this country.’
‘You would see him be destroyed?’ asked Godarz.
‘Why not? By leaving us he would see us destroyed. Let me tell you something, all of you. We can keep on defeating the Romans but they will keep on sending armies against us. If we are defeated once, we are destroyed. And as long as we are in Italy the Romans will dispatch legion after legion until we are exterminated. That is what Crixus does not realise, and that is why he will fail. If we leave Italy we have a chance of staying alive. Tell your men that, all of you.’
The meeting ended on a somewhat sombre note, but I have to confess that I was very happy to be rid of Crixus. What did it matter if there were no Gauls with the army? They were an undisciplined rabble fit only for butchering innocent people. No wonder the Romans had conquered them. Then I thought about Gallia. But obviously she was not like Crixus at all. Clearly not all Gauls were brutes, but even so I was glad to see the back of them. Godarz was somewhat downcast, though both Nergal and Burebista were their usual ebullient selves. I would show Spartacus and the army what properly trained cavalry could do, and would more than recompense him for the loss of a few thousand Gauls. As my mood soared I started to hum to myself, which drew perplexed stares from my fellow riders. Later that day, in the late afternoon following archery training, I walked with Gallia along a stream that ran through a wood filled with tall birch trees. We led our horses, Remus and Gallia’s chestnut mare that she had named Epona, after the Gallic goddess of horses.