and kept walking. Inside, he was delighted that so few faces seemed disappointed by his reappearance. They were seeing only a tiny fraction of the army, but it boded well for the rest. Castus and Gannicus’ poison hadn’t spread that far. It wasn’t long until they reached Ariadne’s tent. Atheas and Taxacis were on guard outside. Recognising Spartacus, they sprang forward, fierce grins splitting their faces.
Spartacus raised a hand to his lips. ‘Quiet,’ he whispered.
The Scythians glanced at each other in surprise, but they obeyed.
‘Want… to see… your son?’ muttered Atheas.
‘My son?’ Thank the gods — it’s a boy! His resolve wavered for a moment, but he held it in place with an iron will. The Gauls had to be dealt with at once, before they heard he was back.
‘Yes. Maron.’
‘She named him after my brother,’ said Spartacus softly. ‘That is a good name. Is he well?’
‘He… fine.’ Atheas beamed. ‘He… like you.’
A tight smile. ‘I’ll see him later.’
Carbo was stunned. ‘Later?’
Spartacus ignored him. Then, to Atheas, ‘Do you have a couple of spare swords?’
The Scythian nodded.
‘Get them.’ Spartacus tapped a foot against the ground as Atheas hurried off. He looked furious. Carbo didn’t dare say a word.
Atheas returned with two plain but serviceable gladii, each of which was attached to a leather baldric. He handed one to each of them.
Spartacus slung his over his right shoulder. ‘Take me to Castus and Gannicus.’
Atheas led off, but he was clearly concerned. ‘Why?’
‘We were attacked two nights ago. It wasn’t Romans. They had to be men from our camp. Who would have the best reasons for wanting me dead?’
‘Castus. Gannicus. The bastards!’ snarled Taxacis. ‘We… kill them?’
Spartacus showed his teeth. ‘Sadly, we need the cocksuckers. Ten legions are being raised. They could be here within three to four months. That might not be enough time to raise and train replacements for the soldiers who would follow the Gauls if they left.’
Carbo’s nerves were wire taut now. What can four of us do? ‘How are you going to play this?’
‘I want to see their faces when they see that I’m alive. That will tell us if they’re guilty or not. We’ll scare the shit out of the dogs. Show them that they can be got at too.’
‘They’ll have dozens of warriors.’
‘What of it?’ spat Spartacus. ‘They have to see that I’m not scared of them, not even a little bit, and to understand that if they order my death, they will die first. We’d manage that before they cut us down, eh?’
‘Yes!’ cried the Scythians fiercely.
Carbo gritted his teeth against his fear. It almost worked. ‘I’m with you.’
‘I knew you would be,’ Spartacus declared. He threw Carbo a wink. ‘As long as the gods are with us, it won’t come to that. Lead on, Atheas.’
Wondering how in Hades Spartacus would prevent them being massacred, Carbo followed his leader.
The Gauls’ tents weren’t far away. They were surrounded by those of their closest supporters, which meant that the small group soon began to attract attention. Those soldiers who didn’t recognise Spartacus knew the Scythians or Carbo by sight. Men stared hostilely and pointed. A few insults were thrown, but no one obstructed their passage. Yet.
A gob of phlegm landed by Carbo’s feet, and his guts churned. Normally, he would have challenged such an insult, but not now.
‘Keep moving,’ muttered Spartacus.
Atheas’ pace picked up.
They found Castus and Gannicus before a pavilion that must have once belonged to a Roman general. A large number of gilt standards had been stabbed into the ground by it, including five silver eagles. Castus was sitting on a log with a half-naked woman kneeling between his open knees. As her head moved up and down, he groaned softly. Gannicus lay on his back nearby, swallowing a stream of wine that fell from a jug held by a dull-eyed, semi-dressed woman. More than a score of armed soldiers lounged about, chatting idly, drinking or fondling yet more fearful- looking girls. A few noticed as the group approached, but they were far too late to prevent what happened next.
‘Cover Gannicus,’ Spartacus hissed at the Scythians. ‘When you see me act, pour the whole jug over the bastard.’
With evil expressions, Atheas and Taxacis stole off.
‘Carbo, you stay with me.’ He strode right up to the woman who was pleasuring Castus.
Carbo stared at the Gaul with disgust. He fucks in public, like an animal.
Castus’ eyes were still closed with pleasure when Spartacus gave the woman a hefty kick in the arse. She fell forward and made a horrible choking sound. With a roar of pain, Castus shoved her away. She lurched to one side, gagging.
Spartacus’ gladius flashed into his hand.
Fifteen paces away, Atheas grabbed the jug from Gannicus’ woman and emptied it over his head. There was an indignant roar, but when the Gaul saw who was crouched over him, he didn’t resist. He lay there, shouting. ‘You mad barbarian bastards! I’ll have you strangled with your own guts for this!’
‘You!’ Castus had sprung up, his face the picture of shock.
Now there was no doubt in Spartacus’ mind. White-hot rage splintered his vision for an instant.
Castus’ eyes darted towards the sword that lay at his feet.
‘Go on, limp prick!’ roared Spartacus. ‘Pick it up.’
‘My men will cut you to pieces!’
‘They can try, but you’ll never see what happens, because you’ll be dead before your fingers close on the hilt.’ Spartacus glared at the Gaul, daring him to move.
Castus licked his lips, and didn’t budge.
Carbo had never heard such anger in his leader’s voice. Castus had heard it too. He knew if he reacted, he would die. Then the Scythians would kill Gannicus, and the surrounding warriors would fall upon them. Carbo gripped his own gladius with white knuckles. Great Jupiter, let me die well.
Spartacus’ rage eased a fraction. ‘Can you see me, Gannicus, or are your eyes still stinging?’
The Gaul lifted his head. ‘I can see you,’ he growled.
‘Are you as surprised to see me as your friend here?’
‘I suppose. We didn’t know when you’d come back. There’s been no word.’
‘You’re a bad liar, Gannicus. That and the disbelief on Castus’ face when he saw me are all the evidence I need. You both thought I was dead, eh?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ blustered Castus, awkwardly tugging up his trousers.
‘Shut your filthy mouth, you,’ snapped Spartacus. ‘Understand that the only reason you’re both not choking to death on your own blood is that it’s still in all of our interests to stay together.’
‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Gannicus.
‘Ten damn legions is what I’m talking about! Ten legions which will march south before winter. That’s what I found out in Rome. Do you fancy fighting them without my men?’
His words were met with a shocked silence.
‘I didn’t think so. Maybe from now on you could spend more time finding new recruits and training them up instead of behaving as if you’re at an orgy.’
Again neither Gaul replied.
Spartacus stared at both men, flinty-eyed. They heard what I said. That’s enough. There’s no point mentioning Sicily yet. ‘One more thing. If either of you ever tries to harm me or my family again, I will not rest until you’ve been carved into a thousand pieces of meat. Do you understand?’
Gannicus nodded. Castus was too slow for Spartacus’ liking, so he jabbed his sword at the ruddy-haired Gaul, forcing him to jump backwards. ‘Do you fucking UNDERSTAND?’
‘Yes,’ Castus muttered.
