‘They’ll be trouble,’ he said as we all walked along behind the baggage train on a warm day under a cloudless sky. ‘Women are always trouble.’
‘All of us?’ enquired Claudia.
Akmon was flustered. ‘Not you, lady, but women in an army spells trouble, they cause arguments and create bad blood. Next thing you know, the men are fighting each other instead of the enemy.’
‘Perhaps I should banish them,’ reflected Spartacus. He flashed a smile at Claudia. ‘Or kill them.’
‘You will do no such thing,’ snapped Claudia. ‘Men fight better when they are defending their loved ones, isn’t that right Pacorus.’
‘I suppose, lady,’ I said.
‘Of course it is,’ interrupted Gafarn, ‘Prince Pacorus would become a wild griffin if he thought that the Lady Gallia was in danger.’
‘What’s a griffin?’ sniffed Akmon, clearly annoyed that his sound military advice was being ignored.
‘A winged monster with an eagle’s head and a lion’s body,’ replied Gafarn. ‘Parthia is full of them.’
‘I’m sure no one wants to hear your views Gafarn,’ I said.
‘You’ll see them, lady, ‘Gafarn remarked to Gallia, ‘when the prince takes you back to Hatra.’
‘Is that your plan, Pacorus,’ queried Claudia, ‘to take my friend to far-off Parthia?’
All eyes were on me. I could feel myself blushing and there was nothing I could do. Gallia looked innocent-eyed at me, while Akmon frowned, Spartacus laughed and Gafarn looked smug, while behind us Praxima and Diana giggled. I was about to give an answer when Byrd suddenly appeared in our midst, his horse lathered in sweat and him covered in dirt. He jumped off his horse and ran up to Spartacus, then saluted him and then me.
‘Romani have destroyed the Gauls.’
We all stopped in our tracks and gathered round Byrd. Spartacus was laughing no longer. His face went ashen as Byrd informed him of what he had discovered. The Gauls had made their base on a large peninsula called the Gargano, an area in Apulia filled with vast forests of pine and surrounded on three sides by the sea. But a Roman army had engaged Crixus and his men and had destroyed them. Byrd’s scouts had not seen the battle but they had witnessed the aftermath, a hillside strewn with thousands of dead Gauls, with a forest of crosses on its summit where the Romans had crucified those they had captured. I saw Spartacus grip the handle of his sword and his knuckles go white as Byrd related how a few survivors had escaped and were making their way north to join us.
‘But few in number, lord. No Crixus among them.’
‘He may have escaped,’ said Claudia.
Spartacus shook his head. ‘He is dead. He would never abandon his men.’
‘He not one of the crucified,’ said Byrd.
‘At least he was spared that,’ muttered Akmon.
‘How far away are the Romans?’ asked Spartacus.
‘Forty miles, lord,’ replied Byrd.
‘They’ll be here in two or three days,’ I said.
‘Halt the army,’ ordered Spartacus to Akmon. ‘Council of war in one hour.’
As Nergal was riding ahead of the army with a company of horse archers, only Burebista accompanied me to the council, which was held at the base of a rounded hill covered in pine trees, with the high peaks of the Apennines in the distance. Around us, the army began the ponderous procedure of mapping out and then erecting a fortified camp. Spartacus’ mood was subdued, and I realised that although he and Crixus had had their differences, they had attended the same gladiatorial school and had shared a common bond. It was not friendship, more like a mutual respect and even admiration. Crixus had been one of the small band of men and women who had escaped from the ludus in Capua. Most of them were centurions in the Thracian contingent, some such as Eonemaus were dead, others like Castus had risen to positions of high authority, but all shared a bond of comradeship that I was not part of. To lose one of those companions was a hard blow, and I noticed that Claudia and Gallia were also distressed.
We sat on wooden stools — Spartacus, Akmon, Castus, Cannicus, Godarz, myself and Burebista — all looking at Spartacus. He suddenly looked tired and drawn, perhaps unsurprisingly for the death of Crixus had been the first defeat for the army, albeit a detached part of it. And perhaps for too long we had lived under the delusion that Rome would not act against us. But now Rome had sent an army to hunt us down and that army had destroyed Crixus and his Gauls. Though no one said anything, all of us must have wondered if we were going to share the same fate.
‘We could continue with our march north,’ said Castus.
‘I have sent out more patrols, lord,’ I added, ‘to monitor the Romans’ movements more closely.’
Spartacus nodded. ‘We can’t risk having them on our tail. We don’t know what lies ahead, and knowing the Romans they will move fast to hunt us down.’
‘Do we know how many there are?’ asked Akmon.
‘Three legions at least,’ I replied, ‘though Byrd also reported a number of light troops. And they have about three hundred horse.’
‘We have no choice,’ said Spartacus, ‘we have to face them before they receive reinforcements. To wait longer will only make our task more difficult. We will camp here tonight. Tomorrow we will march south and fight them on a ground of our choosing.’
I said nothing to Spartacus about Crixus after the meeting had ended. I was sure that he wanted to grieve in his own way. But later that day, after I had eaten an evening meal with Gallia, a messenger arrived from Spartacus ordering me to attend him immediately. As the sun was casting long shadows across the plain where the army was located, I rode Remus over to see Spartacus. Predictably, the camp had been laid out in its usual fashion, and as I cantered down the central avenue I thought I was back at Vesuvius, with high peaks behind me and lush vegetation all around. When I entered Spartacus’ tent I found him pacing up and down, his large hands clasped behind his back. Claudia, looking pale, managed a thin smile when she saw me, while at the table sat a stern-looking Akmon. Then I saw Nergal, covered in dust and drinking from a cup. He bowed his head at me in salute.
‘Tell him,’ snapped Spartacus.
‘A Roman army, highness, approaching us from the north. Maybe two days’ march from here.’
‘Another army?’ I was shocked. ‘How many?’
Nergal took another swig of his drink. By the look of him he had been riding hard. ‘I counted three eagles, a few horse plus some light troops, archers, slingers.’
‘That’s another twenty thousand men, then,’ said Akmon. ‘We appear to be caught in a trap.’
I took the wine offered me by Claudia and sat in a chair by the table. My spirits sank as we waited for Castus to arrive. When he did and was told the news, he too sat dejectedly next to me, resting his chin in his right hand. There was silence for a while, then Spartacus thumped the table, making us all jump.
‘Fighting pairs, back to back, like in the arena. You remember, Castus?’
Castus looked up at Spartacus. ‘You protect my back, I protect yours.’
‘Exactly,’ Spartacus’ eyes were now alight with enthusiasm. ‘That’s the way to get us out of this mess.’
I looked at Nergal in confusion, who shrugged in puzzlement.
‘It’s quite simple,’ announced Spartacus. ‘We strike both enemy forces at the same time rather than face one and risk the other attacking our rear.’
‘You will split the army, lord?’ I said.
‘I have no choice, Pacorus. Hit both of them hard. They won’t expect that.’
‘And if they beat one half of the army,’ mused Akmon, ‘then we will be back to where we started and with only half the number of soldiers.’
‘Let us consider the possibility that we will not be defeated,’ retorted Spartacus. ‘Akmon, you and I will engage the Romans coming from the north, together with the Spaniards. Pacorus and Castus will march with their men against the Romans who fought Crixus.’
‘You will have no cavalry, lord.’ I said, ‘and the Romans advancing from the north have horse with them.’