‘Of course. That is all I want to do.’
‘You were trying to reach my army?’ asked Spartacus.
‘Yes. We had been on the run for four days.’
‘You did well to evade the riders for that long.’
Publipor shuddered. ‘No, they only happened upon our trail today, about three miles back. We hid as best we could, but they kept finding our tracks. When they flushed us out, the woods were the best cover we could see. We had no chance, but then the gods intervened to bring you here with your men.’ Awe filled his eyes. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that mad charge that you did to save me and Kineas.’
‘The gods were definitely on hand,’ agreed Spartacus. Acting in combat as I did today wouldn’t just get me killed. It would get scores of men slain, perhaps even lose the battle. I am eternally in your debt, Great Rider. I will not make the same mistake again. ‘You want to become a soldier?’
‘Yes.’ He bobbed his head. ‘I’d be honoured to serve you.’
‘Good. Have you come far?’
‘I detect a southern accent in your words,’ added Carbo.
‘You do.’ Publipor sounded surprised. ‘I’m from Apulia.’
‘You’ve travelled as far as we have, or further,’ said Spartacus. ‘Did your master bring you up here?’
‘No. I was with Publius, my master, on business when I heard news of Crixus’ army in the area. I ran away and joined them, to be free. That’s where I met Kineas and the other man. Things went well for a while, until Gellius arrived.’
‘By the Rider! You were at Mount Garganus?’
‘Yes.’
‘No other survivors have reached us thus far. I’m glad to have you.’ Spartacus gripped Publipor’s shoulder, which elicited a small smile. ‘It must have been a black day.’
Publipor’s eyes clouded over again. ‘It was terrible.’
‘But you survived. You did not run?’
‘No,’ replied Publipor steadily. ‘I did not run. At least not until Crixus had been killed, and it was clear that all was lost.’
‘I want to hear the full story,’ Spartacus announced. ‘But not here.’
He was keen to understand how, despite his superior numbers, Crixus had lost the battle. Maybe Gellius had outmanoeuvred him? Just because Spartacus’ own forces had had the better of him didn’t mean that the consul had not directed his forces skilfully. Roman generals were famous for their resourcefulness. I must be careful with Longinus. The smallest error and we could lose tomorrow. Even this close to complete freedom, we could fail.
The thrill of saving Publipor, of surviving when he shouldn’t have, vanished.
Spartacus began brooding again about the Alps. He had been trying to avoid the question, although it swirled around in the back of his mind like a repetitive bad dream. Going on the hunt had been a way to forget his troubles, albeit briefly. Don’t try to deny it, he thought. When it comes down to it, it’s not certain if the army will follow me out of Italy. And if they won’t leave, I’m not sure I want to either.
The answer will come to me. The Rider will show me the way.
For once, his staple prayer rang very hollow.
Some days later…
Rome
Crassus pursed his lips in disapproval as Longinus’ lictores filed through the Curia’s massive bronze doors. ‘The man has some nerve allowing them to precede him in here,’ he hissed.
A nearby senator heard. ‘As a proconsul, Longinus is entitled to eleven bodyguards.’
‘I’m fully aware of how many lictores a proconsul merits,’ Crassus shot back. ‘My point is that he is showing an indecent amount of cheek to show up in this fashion. If the stories are to be believed, Longinus didn’t just lose to Spartacus, he was thrashed! His legions were almost wiped out, losing yet more eagles in the process, and the man was fortunate to escape with his life. It would be more appropriate if Longinus came in with no pomp, no ceremony. Humbly, seeking our forgiveness for his failures.’
The senator considered replying, but Crassus’ fury made him think better of it. He turned his back.
‘It is unbecoming that he’s making such an entrance,’ commented Caesar, who was standing close by.
Crassus smiled. Thus far, he was pleased with his decision to lend Caesar the three million denarii. His new ally had brought scores of the younger senators into his camp, and was being proactive in recruiting more. His attention returned to the lictores. His face went a shade of purple. ‘The arrogant bastard hasn’t even had them remove the axes from their fasces!’
His words sent a ripple of shock through the six hundred senators. Within Rome’s sacred boundary, only a dictator’s lictores were allowed to carry the axes in the fasces that signified the right to execute wrongdoers. To break this rule was sacrilege of the most serious kind.
‘A bad time to seek out such bad luck,’ said Caesar loudly.
Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Clodianus and Lucius Gellius, the two consuls, strained their ears to hear the scandalised whispers, but their rosewood chairs at the end of the rectangular room were placed too far from their senatorial colleagues.
Longinus’ lead lictor rapped his fasces on the marble floor.
A disapproving silence fell.
‘I announce the proconsul of Cisalpine Gaul, Gaius Cassius Longinus.’
‘Savour your position, because you won’t be in it for much longer,’ said Crassus, making no effort to be quiet.
His supporters, who now numbered more than 150, tittered.
‘Silence!’ said the lictor, but his bark lacked its customary authority.
Crassus’ pleasure grew. He didn’t yet have enough senators to command a majority, but Longinus’ defeat would only lend fuel to his fire and, by all the gods, he would make the most of this situation. Since the news of Spartacus’ latest victory had reached Rome a day and a half before, Crassus had spent every waking moment considering what he would say.
A couple more derogatory comments were made about Longinus. Crassus was pleased to note that they came from the other side of the floor, traditionally the area where Pompey’s faction stood. He heard the words ‘A disgrace to his office’ and ‘Another stain to the Republic’s honour’ and exulted. I will gain control of the legions — I know it, he thought. Be careful, warned his cautious side. Let Longinus place his own head on the block.
Lentulus, who was an unremarkable-looking man with receding brown hair, spoke to his chief lictor, who rapped out an order. At once his fellows hammered their fasces off the floor.
A hush fell. When the consuls — even those who had been defeated — demanded silence, they got it.
‘Let the proconsul approach,’ cried Lentulus’ lictor.
The bodyguards’ formation parted, and Longinus stepped smartly forward. He was a man of medium height and build, with a hard-bitten look. As a general who had been on campaign, he was wearing a red tunic. A sash of the same colour was tied around the lower part of his gleaming bronze cuirass. Layered linen pteryges covered his groin, and he wore a magnificent crested helmet. Even his calf-high boots were polished. He very much looked the part, and under normal circumstances, his appearance would have garnered approving comments from the senators. Not so today, Crassus observed with delight. In a clear sign that his peers were unhappy with his conduct, Longinus walked the length of the Curia in complete silence. He halted at the low dais upon which the two consuls sat, and saluted.
‘Proconsul,’ said Lentulus.
Gellius inclined his head. ‘You have returned.’
‘Yes, consuls,’ replied Longinus stiffly. ‘I have come to make my report about recent events in the north.’
Crassus held in his explosive reaction. He mustn’t move too soon.
Someone else did it for him. ‘“Recent events”?’ cried a senator off to his right. ‘Is that what you call your humiliation by a rabble of slaves?’
A loud growl of agreement met these words, and Longinus scowled.
‘Order! I will have order!’ shouted Lentulus. Twin spots of scarlet marked his cheeks. Crassus revelled in the consul’s anger. Lentulus had had precisely the same experience at Spartacus’ hands just a short time prior. The
