‘That might appeal to you and me, maybe, but not to the majority. What do Castus and Gannicus care about Thrace? Or the rest of them?’
‘Do the Gauls know?’ She couldn’t take her eyes off his face.
‘No, thank the Rider. I’m not planning on telling them either. Carbo and Navio know not to say a word to a soul.’
That was some consolation, she thought bitterly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘I didn’t want to worry you. Besides, there was little point until Longinus had been defeated.’
‘I see.’ Although she was angry, Ariadne was partly glad that she hadn’t known until now. She had enjoyed her fantasy — which had just been replaced by a tide of acid disappointment. Her gaze moved to the bright sunlight entering the tent, and outside, the towering spectacle of the Alps. They seemed far larger than they had a few moments prior. ‘Even if we cross the mountains, the Romans will find us in Thrace.’
He scowled in agreement. ‘It wouldn’t take long for news of our arrival to reach Lucullus’ ears. He’d want to take us on — and that’s assuming that the Senate doesn’t send an army after us as well.’
‘Have you forgotten the other tribes? You planned to unite them under one banner. To lead the fight against Rome. Surely they would come together when they saw how many men followed you?’
‘I thought about this long and hard. You know how quarrelsome our people are. They like to call no man leader. It’s as likely that they would attack us as join us. It would be an enormous task to bring together more than two or three tribes. Only one man has ever ruled all of the Thracians, and he did not do so for long.’ He let out a long, weary breath. ‘Father was wrong. Thrace is not a land that can be united.’
‘You could do it,’ she urged.
‘Maybe. And maybe not. It’s probable, however, that I’d have to fight to control at least some of the tribes, handing the advantage to Lucullus. That’s if someone didn’t assassinate me first. Here, on the other hand, I already have an army in excess of fifty thousand soldiers. Men who do not need convincing to follow me. In Italy, there is also an endless source of recruits to our cause. If I stay, even the troublemakers such as Castus will continue to follow my lead. For the moment at least.’
‘I can’t believe you’re saying this!’
In that instant, Spartacus silently voiced the truth that had come to him during the long dark of the previous night. The rumblings of discontent in his forces were all too real. It was by no means certain whether the men would follow through on their threats, but he had a bad feeling about it. I will not leave the majority of my soldiers behind. Not to end up where I began — in Thrace, with every man’s hand turned against me and the Romans plundering the land at will.
‘You don’t want to give up command of your army, that’s what it is.’ She glared at him.
He met her stare. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘I knew it!’ she screamed. ‘You’re too damn proud.’
‘If the men will leave, I shall go. If the vast majority will not, then I am staying,’ he replied, jutting out his chin.
‘And if I decide to cross the Alps without you?’
‘I would be saddened to see you go. Naturally, I would send men to protect you.’
‘You would choose your troops over me?’ Tears — of sadness, of rage — sprang from her eyes. ‘Your wife, who is bearing your son?’
‘First and foremost, I am a soldier, Ariadne,’ he growled. ‘Not a husband. You’ve known that from the moment we met.’
Ariadne’s joy at seeing the Alps vanished. She felt as if Dionysus and every other deity in the pantheon had just withdrawn their goodwill. Somehow, she rallied herself. ‘You’re talking as if it’s certain that the men will refuse to follow you over the mountains. You could be wrong.’
‘Perhaps.’
Ariadne felt her shoulders sag. ‘So we have marched the length of the land for nothing?’
‘It wasn’t for nothing. When we left Thurii, I fully intended to cross the Alps. And I still will-’
‘If the army follows you,’ she interjected furiously.
‘Yes.’
Her eyes filled anew.
Spartacus reached out a hand to comfort her, but she recoiled as if his touch was poisonous. He let her be. ‘I am a leader. A general. I have come to my position through merit. I will not just give it all up and hand my power to a sewer rat like Castus or a schemer like Gannicus.’ Even if it hurts you.
‘You’ve said before that Rome’s legions were like the monster Hydra. For every one head that is destroyed, two more grow in its place. If you stay here in Italy, they will raise ever more legions against you.’
‘Maybe they will. But Hercules bested the Hydra. Perhaps I can too,’ he replied, the pride she had accused him of filling his voice.
‘But in Thrace you would have a better chance-’
‘In Thrace?’ Spartacus laughed, angry now. ‘For what I have done, the Romans will never leave me alone. They will send their legions after me even if I travel to the ends of the earth.’
In her heart, Ariadne knew he was right. If her husband left his soldiers secretly, and found with her some remote place to live in, they would have a life untroubled by Rome. But he would no more do that than the sun would dance in the sky. Warfare is his destiny. It always has been. She could not change that, any more than she could his nature. Nor did she want to, she realised sadly. She loved him as he was. Brave. Fierce. Charismatic. Clever. Reckless at times. And, above all, proud.
What did it mean for him, though? she wondered. And for her?
He began to get dressed. ‘I told Egbeo and Pulcher that I wanted the men assembled after they had eaten. Will you come to hear me speak?’
‘Yes,’ she heard herself say.
‘Will you stay or go?’
‘That depends on what you do.’
They stared at each other.
‘Your answer is ambiguous. Will you follow me?’
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she replied, lifting her chin.
I’m not the only one with pride, thought Spartacus. ‘I see.’
Neither spoke again as he prepared himself.
Ariadne remembered her hideous dream. Was that the fate that the gods held in store for him?
Spartacus would do his best to win the men over. That way, he and Ariadne would definitely stay together. His gut told him a different story about his soldiers, however. That didn’t weaken his resolve. His troops needed a leader. And he was that man — whatever the path they chose.
Spartacus had ordered the construction of a raised platform at the edge of the camp the night before. Ten men from every century in the army were to gather in front of it where they could easily hear what he said. The senior officers of each cohort were also to present themselves there. The rest of the host was to stand as if on parade, behind and to either side of the chosen soldiers. Spartacus’ plan was to speak slowly and to pause regularly, allowing runners from the central group to carry his exact words to their comrades. If he could win over the gathered men, he stood a chance of doing so for the whole host. But a chance was all it was. The waiting faces he saw on his way to the dais were not happy.
He threw back his shoulders. This was the most important address that he would ever make. It was good that the Roman battle standards they’d seized had been put on display. The evidence of his successes, six silver eagles, the wooden staffs bearing the insignia of more than thirty cohorts and two dozen sets of fasces were arrayed behind the platform. It was an incredible haul, he thought proudly. Even a general such as Hannibal would have been impressed. It could not fail to make an impact on his men. Would it be enough, though? He climbed the steps, past the trumpeters who stood ready to attract everyone’s attention. His mood soured further. ‘Castus and Gannicus are already here,’ he muttered to Ariadne, who was a pace to his rear. ‘Look.’
The Gauls were moving among the soldiers in front of the stage, chatting genially and slapping men on the shoulders. Treacherous bastards.
‘They’re trying to pre-empt me.’ Whatever chance he’d had of convincing the men was slipping away before his eyes. Spartacus told himself that it was his imagination, but the roar that met his appearance was more muted
