Carbo froze.
The soldier’s companion sniggered. ‘He won’t have a clue. The slave scum will march along the road north, cocky as you like, following our decoy force. They’ll get the shock of their lives, though, when they get pulverised by the ballistae.’
‘Ha! And even if some of them get away over the Alps, they won’t find much of a welcome should they head for Thrace,’ said the first man with a laugh. ‘Someone told me that Marcus Lucullus has recently smashed the Thracian troops who were fighting with Mithridates. By all accounts, he’s now laying waste to half of that damn area.’
The legionaries’ voices died away as they walked down the alleyway.
‘Did you hear that?’ whispered Carbo.
‘Yes. Incredible.’
They weren’t yet out of danger, but Carbo couldn’t believe the luck that had befallen them.
Navio chuckled softly.
‘What are you laughing at?’
‘A few moments ago, I was ploughing the most beautiful whore I’ve ever seen. Now I’m naked, covered in shit and standing in a pitch-black larder, freezing my arse off. But it doesn’t matter, because of what we just heard.’
Carbo had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing.
Despite the disquieting news about Thrace, it felt good to be alive.
Chapter IV
The friends’ luck continued to hold. After it was clear that the legionaries had gone for good, the friends had allowed Arnax, the sallow-skinned boy who had saved them, to light an oil lamp. The flickering flame had revealed a dingy room full of brushes, cleaning rags, buckets and a sink full of dirty crockery. It was a perfect hiding place. Few people — even slaves — chose to enter a scullery unless they had to. While Carbo had questioned Arnax, Navio had been able to clean off the worst of the manure and finally don his licium.
They had soon established that Arnax belonged to an old man who lived on his own with a handful of slaves. As long as he kept the floors, the kitchen and the courtyard clean, Arnax was left to his own devices. This discovery had permitted the pair to relax a little. Their spirits had risen soon after when the boy had reappeared with a tunic and a pair of sandals for Navio, as well as some food, and water from the house’s well.
They had readied themselves to leave around midnight. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get Arnax to join them. ‘When the soldiers haven’t found us by daybreak,’ Carbo had warned, ‘they’ll retrace their steps. It will be easy to see where we jumped over the wall. Two big shitty sets of footprints will lead to this door. When they arrive to talk to your master, there will be one person to blame. You.’
At that, Arnax’s thin face had paled.
‘Come with us,’ Carbo had urged him. ‘You’ll be free, like everyone else in the army. We can always use a clever lad like you.’
‘I’m only eleven.’
‘That’s of no matter. The cooks, the blacksmiths and the grooms who look after the cavalry’s horses always need help.’ Carbo had seen the disappointment in Arnax’s dark eyes and relented. ‘Or you could keep our gear clean and cook for us.’
‘I’ll do it!’
And that had been that.
Taking a piece of rope from the scullery, the trio had stolen through the city, grateful for the total cloud cover that had reduced the light at street level to almost complete darkness. The friends had then been even more thankful for Arnax’s presence. He had a keen sense of direction, and had guided them to the south wall, avoiding a number of patrols. Once they had spotted the sentries pacing the battlements and timed the frequency of their passing, it had been a simple enough affair to climb up, fix their rope to a pillar on the ramparts and scramble down to the ditch at the foot of the wall.
From there, it had been a long but satisfying walk to their encampment, which they had reached just after dawn. Arnax’s eyes had grown to the size of small plates at the sheer number of men and tents, and Carbo had clapped him on the arm. ‘See now why there’s a feeling of panic in Mutina?’
Showing the awestruck Arnax to their tent, the pair had left him with instructions to cook them breakfast. They had gone in search of Spartacus at once. Wary of being punished, both were reluctant to confess the full story of what had happened. If asked to explain the ripe smell still emanating from Navio, they had decided to say he’d drunk too much and fallen into a dungheap as they’d walked through the dark streets. Carbo had had to fish him out.
They found Spartacus seated at his campfire, talking to Castus and Gannicus. Atheas and Taxacis stood nearby as always, like two guardian wolves.
Castus grimaced as they approached. ‘Phoah! Someone stinks of horse shit.’
Gannicus smiled at Navio’s embarrassment. Even Spartacus grinned. ‘What in the Rider’s name happened to you?’
‘Where have you been?’ demanded Castus.
They didn’t know about our mission, thought Carbo. Spartacus wants to show them how smart he is.
‘Mutina,’ said Navio.
Suspicion flashed across Castus’ face, and he shot a glance at Gannicus, who didn’t look happy either. ‘What in Hades were our two Romans doing there, Spartacus?’
‘Falling into dungheaps. What else?’
Castus’ face grew red. ‘Don’t try to be funny with me.’
‘Why were we not told of this?’ growled Gannicus.
‘Do I have to tell you everything?’
‘You used to share with us what you were planning-’
‘You are here now,’ interrupted Spartacus curtly. ‘They were gathering information. You can both hear their report first-hand. Is that not enough?’
Castus made to say more, but Gannicus, who looked angrier than Carbo had ever seen him, laid a hand on his arm. Glowering, Castus subsided into silence.
‘Your mission didn’t all go according to plan, I take it? I don’t recall telling you to fling yourselves into horse shit.’
‘We had some problems, sir,’ replied Navio awkwardly.
Spartacus’ eyebrows made a neat arch.
‘We, err…’ Navio hesitated. ‘We had a few drinks. I ended up in a dungheap. Carbo pulled me out.’
The Gauls chortled.
He hasn’t had to lie. Carbo felt a trace of relief, but it didn’t last. Yet.
‘Nothing wrong with that, as long as you also did what I asked to.’ Spartacus’ voice had lost its amused tone. ‘Did you discover anything?’
‘We did,’ said Carbo, eager to move on. ‘Longinus is planning a surprise attack as we advance past the town. Apparently, there’s an area of hidden ground within range of the road north. That’s where his ballistae will be.’ He wasn’t sure why, but Carbo did not mention what the legionaries had said about the recent Roman victory over the Thracians. He was grateful that Navio didn’t either.
‘Fucking Roman bastards,’ Castus ground out. Gannicus agreed loudly.
‘Do you know where the spot is?’ asked Spartacus.
‘No.’
‘Or how many catapults he has?’
Carbo shook his head in apology.
Spartacus rubbed a finger along his lips, thinking. ‘It’s a clever move. Longinus could have twenty ballistae — or more, if he thought of this a while ago. A good workshop can turn out one piece every few days. Naturally, the
