followers, and whom Carbo had grown to trust implicitly. He’d found Egbeo training the men. ‘You might think that the Roman dogs are scared of us now, but they’re not! You can never take them for granted,’ the Thracian had roared over and over. ‘You still need to drill with each other. You have to know in your gut that when the order comes, every man around you will do exactly as you do. That he will advance. Form close order. Throw his javelins. Charge the enemy. Help to form a wedge. Even to retreat!’ Carbo had smiled at the guffaws this produced and, invigorated by Egbeo’s speech, had set to with a will. However, once the practice was over and he’d spent a little time chatting with his men, he found himself at a loose end. He remembered his idea of going hunting and when Navio had returned from training his own cohort, he suggested they went together.
‘Come on. It’ll be better than having to look at Gannicus’ men preening themselves before they leave.’
‘True enough,’ said Navio with a grimace. Although they were supposed to be keeping quiet about what they were to do, Gannicus’ troops were doing a poor job of it. ‘What do you fancy going after?’
‘I’ll take whatever we can find. Boar. Deer. A bird for the pot.’
‘Can I tag along?’
Arnax’s eager face made Carbo smile: he was becoming fond of the boy. ‘All right. We’re not likely to meet any Roman patrols.’
Arnax’s face fell. ‘How can you be sure?’
There was a familiar laugh. ‘Because they’re too damn scared to come anywhere near my army.’
Arnax goggled. ‘Oh,’ he said in a small voice.
‘Spartacus!’ Carbo took in his leader’s hunting weapons. ‘Have you come to join us?’
‘I haven’t been on a hunt in months.’
‘If you’re sure,’ said Carbo, thinking about what might happen if they did meet a Roman patrol.
‘I am.’ Ariadne is worried about nothing.
Spartacus’ tone brooked no argument. Carbo shrugged. Navio grinned. ‘Another bow increases our chance of success.’
Spartacus nodded a friendly greeting at Arnax, who looked even more frightened. ‘So this is the lad who helped you out in Mutina?’
‘That’s him,’ said Carbo.
‘You did well to aid my men, boy. What do they call you?’
‘A-Arnax, sir.’
‘A strong name.’
Arnax said nothing.
‘I don’t bite.’
Arnax glanced at Carbo, who gave him an encouraging smile.
‘Thank you, sir,’ he ventured.
Spartacus cocked his head. ‘What is it? You’ve heard terrible things about me?’
‘Y-y-yes, sir.’
‘What have you heard?’
No reply.
‘Tell me,’ Spartacus commanded.
Again Arnax looked to Carbo, who said, ‘Tell him.’
‘Apparently, you eat babies.’
Spartacus’ mouth twitched. ‘Really?’
‘Y-yes.’
‘Who said that?’
‘My master. People in the forum,’ muttered Arnax.
‘He’s not your master any more. You’re free now.’
Arnax’s fearful expression eased a little.
‘I can also tell you that I am an ordinary man like Carbo or Navio. I don’t eat babies, nor do I breathe fire. As I said, I am grateful that you saved my men. You are welcome here.’ Arnax said nothing, and he frowned. ‘Still not happy?’
To Carbo’s shock, Arnax blurted, ‘You killed all those legionaries. The ones who had to fight each other to the death.’
‘Arnax!’ hissed Carbo.
Spartacus’ eyebrows rose. ‘Spirited, isn’t he?’
Arnax’s momentary courage fled him, and his eyes lowered.
‘Do you know why munera have historically been held?’
‘To commemorate the death of someone rich or famous,’ Arnax replied.
‘That’s right,’ said Spartacus. ‘Nowadays, of course, they’re held any time some high-and-mighty or up-and- coming noble wants to impress the masses. Men fight and sometimes die in those munera, don’t they? Slaves, who have no choice in the matter.’
Arnax nodded.
‘My munus was to mark the death of thousands of my former comrades in battle. In my mind, that makes it far more valid than the entertainment that is laid on for the populations of towns the length and breadth of Italy every month or two. I had every damn right to do what I did.’ He pinned Arnax with a hard stare. ‘Understand?’
In the silence that followed, Carbo was surprised to find himself in agreement with Spartacus. The munus had upset him badly at the time, but for months now, he had trained and fought alongside former slaves. They were his trusted comrades. If it was acceptable to force men such as they to fight as gladiators, then it was permissible to do the same to Roman prisoners. He watched Arnax, pleased, surprised and a little worried by the way he’d stood up to Spartacus. Agree with him.
‘Yes,’ the boy said at last.
‘A real fighter you’ve got there, Carbo. I think I can understand now why a slip of a lad like him saved your lives at the risk of his own. He’ll make a good soldier one day — as long as he learns to watch his tongue.’
‘He will,’ replied Carbo.
‘Ever been hunting?’ Spartacus asked Arnax.
‘No.’
‘This can be your first time. We take bows and arrows for deer and birds, and these in case we meet a boar.’ He handed over his heavy hunting spear. ‘You can carry that.’
Arnax beamed. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Carbo?’ asked Spartacus.
‘There are plenty of tracks in the woods to the north of the camp. I thought that would be a good place to start.’
‘If we want to have a chance of killing anything, we’d best get moving, eh?’ Navio slapped his mail shirt. ‘Help me take this off,’ he said to Arnax.
Aided by Spartacus, Carbo also removed his. Although it made sense to leave the heavy shirt behind, he felt naked without it. Talk of the meat that they’d be roasting over their fire that night soon put his concerns to rest, however.
The four wended their way through lines of tents to the edge of the vast encampment. Despite the fact that Spartacus kept his head down, his men hailed him at every step. It took a mile or more before the sights and sounds of the huge army were left behind, but eventually they found themselves alone, a world away from the hustle-bustle of the camp. It was a fine spring day, and the warm temperature was most welcome after the long winter months. Carbo felt glad just to be wearing a tunic.
He led the little party fast across the open ground that sloped downwards to the north. It was covered in short grass and clumps of aromatic sage and juniper. His eyes scanned the dirt for signs of deer or boar, but all he saw were the tracks of small creatures such as the startled hare that had bounded off between a dark green myrtle shrub and a mass of prickly buckthorn. There was plenty of birdlife. Several large black birds with red markings around their eyes and impressive fantails darted off into the undergrowth as they passed. They looked good enough to eat, but a swift glance at Navio and Spartacus told Carbo that they too wanted bigger quarry.
He ignored the pair of hooded crows that chattered angrily at them from a cork oak tree. In the distance,
