made no attempt to dismount or to enter the woods.
‘If they come in here, they’ll lose all their superiority. The whoresons have had enough!’ said Spartacus with savage delight. He was still alive! Never had he survived such insane odds.
Carbo and Navio began howling like wolves. Was there anything Spartacus couldn’t do? Following his example, they loosed more shafts until the horsemen had retreated further. ‘Keep an eye on them,’ Spartacus ordered Navio. ‘Best check on the men whom we nearly died for, eh?’ he barked at Carbo. They trotted to the two fugitives, who were a little further under the canopy. The man who’d been injured was lying on his back, moaning.
Carbo winced as he drew near. The Roman’s sword had sliced in above the hipbone, opening his abdomen like a ripe fruit. Blood was oozing, pouring, jetting from the scarlet-lipped edges of the massive wound. Numerous loops of bowel were exposed. Everything was coated in a layer of grit and dirt from where the man had rolled on the ground. Carbo’s nostrils twisted in distaste. ‘I can smell shit.’
‘Me too,’ came Spartacus’ grim reply.
That was it, thought Carbo bleakly. Even if he lived until they got him back to the camp, even if the surgeons could close the horrific cut, the man would die. No one survived when his guts had been pierced. No one.
They stooped over the third fugitive, who was trying to comfort his companion. ‘You made it, Kineas. Well done.’
Kineas groaned. ‘Water.’
‘Here.’ Spartacus pulled the stopper from his leather carrier and handed it over.
Kineas’ comrade helped him to take a tiny mouthful. Rather than swallow the water, he inhaled it, which sent him into a paroxysm of coughing that set off a fresh wave of bleeding from his wound.
‘What are they doing?’ Spartacus called.
‘Still sitting on their horses, waiting,’ shouted Navio.
The hairs on Spartacus’ neck prickled. ‘Go back and see what’s happening. I want no more stupid risks today,’ he said to Carbo. He knelt down. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Publipor,’ replied the third man, who was perhaps thirty. His thin face was pinched by hunger and suffering, and now sorrow.
‘We can do nothing for your friend. He’s dying,’ whispered Spartacus.
‘I know,’ said Publipor bitterly.
Carbo reached Navio, who was watching the group of horsemen. They had withdrawn perhaps a hundred paces, beyond accurate bow range. ‘I don’t like it,’ said Navio. ‘Why haven’t they either dismounted and come in here after us, or just pissed off? There could be other troops in the area.’
Carbo squinted into the dust cloud that yet hung in the air behind the Romans. He could see nothing. Navio was right, however. Something didn’t feel right. ‘Spartacus?’
‘What?’
‘They look as if they’re expecting reinforcements.’
Spartacus caught the tone of Carbo’s voice. ‘Time to go.’
Kineas’ eyes opened. For a moment, they wandered, unfocused, before settling on Publipor. His forehead creased. ‘Why-?’
‘Easy,’ murmured Publipor. ‘Don’t try to talk.’
Kineas finally took in Spartacus. His frown deepened, and he pointed a finger at Publipor. ‘He-’ A fresh bout of coughing took him. More blood gouted from his wound and what colour was left in his hollow cheeks vanished. He sagged down on the earth and his eyelids fluttered closed.
Publipor let out a deep sigh.
‘It’s hard when a comrade dies,’ said Spartacus quietly. I have seen it too many times.
Publipor’s lips twisted with an unreadable emotion.
‘We have to leave him.’
Kineas’ eyes jerked open and he tried to sit up. ‘I should never have-’
The effort was too much for him, and he slumped back down on to the crimson-soaked ground. He drew one more shuddering breath, and let it out with a loud rattle. Publipor bent over him, catching the last gasp. Then he gently closed Kineas’ staring eyes.
Spartacus only let him grieve for a heartbeat. ‘We must go.’
Publipor got to his feet and eyed them awkwardly. ‘I do not like to ask anyone for money, but I have none. Kineas needs a coin for the ferryman.’
Spartacus fumbled in the little purse that hung around his neck and produced a denarius. ‘Here.’
Publipor accepted it with mumbled thanks. He bent, opened Kineas’ mouth and slipped the coin on to his tongue. ‘Rest in peace,’ he said heavily.
Carbo and Navio came trotting in. ‘There’s another dust cloud coming,’ said Carbo.
‘Is that so?’ snapped Spartacus.
Carbo didn’t see the fist that cracked into the side of his head. Stars burst across his vision, and he dropped to the ground. A kick in the belly made him retch. Dazed and nauseous, he looked up at Spartacus.
‘What in the name of all the gods were you thinking? Did you want to die?’
Navio glowered at him, adding to the pressure.
Carbo spat out a gob of phlegm. ‘No.’
‘What then?’ Spartacus’ voice cracked like a whip.
‘I–I thought one of the men was a slave belonging to my family. A man who was dear to me. I couldn’t stand by and watch him be butchered like a pig.’
‘Were you right? Was it he?’
‘No,’ replied Carbo miserably.
‘Even if you had been correct, charging out like that was the wrong decision to make. You answer to me! Unless I tell you, you do not run off like a fucking maniac trying to commit suicide.’ Another mighty kick was delivered.
Carbo rolled into a ball, trying to protect himself. No more blows landed.
‘Look at me!’
He dragged his eyes up to meet Spartacus’ flinty stare.
‘If you ever do such a damn stupid thing again,’ and he bent over, ramming a forefinger into Carbo’s chest for emphasis, ‘I will shoot you in the back myself. I only risk my life for a soldier once. Do. You. Understand?’
Carbo had never seen Spartacus so angry. ‘Yes.’
‘LOUDER!’
‘YES!’
Without another word, Spartacus led the way up the slope.
Carbo stumbled to his feet. Navio didn’t help him, and he knew that if he couldn’t keep up, they would leave him behind. I deserve no less, he thought miserably. His stupidity had nearly got them all killed. He was fortunate that Spartacus hadn’t slain him.
Spartacus’ pace was brutal but no one complained. Apart from picking up Arnax, he didn’t stop running until they had gone a couple of miles. Even then, it was but a brief pause to listen for sounds of pursuit. I have tested the Rider’s regard for me enough for one day. He only let up when the army’s tents came into view.
Publipor’s jaw dropped at the sight. ‘You must be some of Spartacus’ men.’
Carbo was able to raise a grin at that. ‘You’re not far off.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re looking at the man himself.’ He indicated his leader.
‘Y-you are Spartacus?’
‘I am.’
‘The gods be praised!’ Publipor clutched at Spartacus’ hands like a supplicant to a king. ‘I owe you and your men my life. Thank you.’
‘It’s Carbo you should be grateful to.’ Spartacus’ smile did not reach his eyes.
Publipor’s attention moved to Carbo. ‘How can I ever repay you?’
‘Join our army. Swear allegiance to Spartacus,’ replied Carbo awkwardly. He knew that this gesture would not restore him to the Thracian’s favour, but he wanted to show that he was still loyal.
