Carbo’s eyes swivelled. With two legionaries in front and four behind, Crassus was heading in their general direction. To his surprise, one of the leading soldiers was indeed the veteran centurion. ‘They’re aiming for the same street we came in on. What should we do?’
Spartacus knew that the odds were long indeed, but his blood was up. ‘We go for it.’ Whether we’ll get away afterwards is uncertain, but it’s worth the risk.
Carbo’s heart was like a pounding drum in his chest. This is what he’d prayed for so hard, but two against six? The legionaries were fully armed too, and all they had were daggers. I can’t back down. He gave Spartacus a tight nod. ‘How do you want to do it?’
‘Let’s get ahead of him. Head into the alley that Tulla brought us down. Charge out as they come alongside. We take a soldier each — the ones nearest us — and put them down, hard. Then you go for whichever legionary gets to you first. I’ll kill Crassus. You’ll have to hold off the rest as they come at you. Think you can do that?’
‘Yes,’ said Carbo with all the confidence he could muster. I’m a dead man. What does that matter though, if we succeed?
‘The instant I’m done with Crassus, we flee back up the alley and lose ourselves in the back streets.’ His eyes drilled into Carbo. ‘Clear?’
He licked dry lips. ‘Yes.’
Spartacus honed in on the fractional delay in his reply. He chuckled. ‘You want to kill him, don’t you?’
‘I do.’
‘Think you can murder an unarmed man? You’d just have to hack into him, as you would with a side of pork. No thinking, no hesitating.’
Sudden doubt tore at Carbo. Could he slay Crassus in cold blood? He had always thought he could, but now the chance had fallen into his lap, he wasn’t so sure. His eyes fell away from the Thracian’s.
‘I’ll do it,’ Spartacus said.
Carbo rallied himself with images of his parents having to leave the house that been in the family for generations. The familiar rage flared in his belly. ‘I can do it,’ he protested.
‘No,’ replied Spartacus in a hard voice. ‘This is the only opportunity that we’ll ever get. There can be no cock-ups.’
Furious with himself, Carbo acquiesced.
‘Lead on then, or they’ll get ahead of us. Let’s pray that Tulla doesn’t come back before we’re out of sight. The last thing we need is her shouting after us.’
‘Right. I’ve had enough of waiting for the brat,’ said Carbo loudly, assuming his role of master once more. ‘Let’s head back to the inn.’ He strode off, not twenty paces ahead of Crassus and his escort. It was hard not to look behind him as he walked. The jingle of the legionaries’ mail was clearly audible. I’ll have to get close enough to stab my man in the throat. His anxiety grew, and his fingers stole of their own volition to the hilt of his dagger. Jupiter, let my aim be true.
After they had slain two of the legionaries and while Spartacus was killing Crassus, their companions would turn on him. Carbo did not have time to dwell on what might happen after that. Crassus will die, he told himself. He reached the alleyway and quickly turned into it.
Spartacus came spilling in behind him. His knife was already in his hand. ‘Ready?’
Drawing his own blade, Carbo nodded.
Spartacus padded to the corner of the building and peered around it with great caution. Then he stepped back and glanced at Carbo. ‘They’re fifteen paces away. You take the front legionary on this side. I’ll take the next one. Move the instant your man is parallel with us. Don’t wait until he or Crassus have passed by or they might realise what’s going on.’
‘Yes.’ Spartacus was taking the harder kill, but Carbo didn’t argue. He moved in front of the Thracian, as far forward as he could without actually being seen, and pressed himself against the cool brickwork.
‘Ten paces they’ll be now,’ whispered Spartacus. ‘Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.’
Carbo held his dagger with the tip pointing towards the ground, the way he’d been trained. It provided a far stronger grip, and was almost impossible to knock from his fingers. His gaze narrowed to the space before him: the gap that led to the street. He was aware of the blood rushing in his ears, the crunch of caligae on the uneven ground and the clink of mail. In the background, noises from the basilica — and Spartacus’ voice. ‘Five. Four. Three.’
Carbo tensed.
‘Two. One. Now.’
The first thing Carbo saw was the edge of a scutum. Then a mailed shoulder, and a head covered by a crested bronze-bowl helmet. Carbo darted forward. Grabbing the top edge of the shield with his left hand, he ripped it downwards. The unsuspecting legionary was jerked downwards and to the side, exposing his neck. Raising his knife, Carbo hammered it into the hollow to the side of the collarbone. He was aware of Spartacus shooting forward like a wraith to his left, of the other soldiers’ confused faces turning towards him, of Crassus’ shocked expression. A scream of agony from his victim dragged him back. He ripped free his blade, releasing a spray of bright red blood into the air. Carbo stabbed the man again for good measure, and let him fall.
‘It must be them!’ roared the second man at the front — Caepio. ‘Protect Crassus!’
At the time, the words didn’t register with Carbo, because his attention was focused on Caepio, who was charging at him with a drawn sword.
Fortunately, Caepio tripped as he leaped forward. His scutum, which should have thumped into Carbo’s chest, instead caught Crassus in the side, sending him stumbling to one side.
‘Kill him, you fool!’ screeched the politician, backing away towards the wall of the Curia.
Gripping his gladius, Caepio advanced.
From the corner of his eye, Carbo saw a pair of bodies on the ground and Spartacus scrambling forward at Crassus. The two last legionaries, his mind screamed. Where in Hades are they? He couldn’t look around, though, because Caepio was coming at him fast. One. The centurion’s shield boss was rammed at Carbo’s face. Two. A throat-ripping thrust of his sword followed. He dodged the first and backed away from the second.
‘I recognise you! You’re the traitor I spoke to after the munus.’ Snarling with pleasure, Caepio swept forward. ‘Ready to choke on your own blood, you vermin?’
Carbo didn’t answer. Shieldless, his only form of defence was to retreat. That took him further away from Spartacus, and the fifth and sixth soldiers, who he now saw had not made for him. Instead, they had somehow got between Crassus and the Thracian and were shielding him with their scuta. Carbo cursed. With just a dagger, there was no way that Spartacus could succeed. There was nothing he could do to help either. Every time he tried to move in the direction of the Forum, Caepio blocked his way. He shot a glance behind him. A safe distance away, a crowd of shocked citizens were watching their every move. He spat another oath. The same would be happening beyond where Spartacus was. The alarm would have been raised. Any moment, more soldiers would come to Crassus’ rescue.
Spartacus knew it too. He made one last desperate attempt to reach Crassus, darting in to one side of the legionaries guarding him. He managed to strike the leftmost man in the fleshy part of his shield arm. As he did, Crassus cursed and shrank back against the wall. If I’d had more time, thought Spartacus, it might have made a difference. No one could hold the heavy weight of a scutum for long after suffering such a wound. But the soldier’s companion drove at him with a flurry of blows from his shield and sword, and he had to withdraw. A quick glance towards the Forum told him that his attempt was over. A large group of legionaries, accompanied by men in civilian clothes — some of the veterans, no doubt — were sprinting up the street.
He pinned Crassus with his stare. ‘It’s not to be this time. But next time you won’t be so lucky.’
Crassus glared at him. ‘I should have ordered you killed that day.’
‘That’s right, you cocksucker. A stupid mistake, eh?’ called Spartacus over his shoulder as he ran off.
‘After him!’ screamed Crassus, shoving his guards in the back and gesticulating wildly at the approaching men. ‘It is Spartacus! A gold piece to the man who brings me his body!’
Caepio was too busy with Carbo; he didn’t see Spartacus coming. I could kill him easily enough. Yet the dignity with which the centurion had conducted himself still lingered in his mind. Instead he shoulder-charged Caepio from behind, sending him flying to the ground. Spartacus bounded over him with a great leap. ‘Fortuna is smiling on you today.’
‘Curse you for a treacherous assassin!’ Caepio spat. ‘I won’t forget this.’
