‘Excellent.’ With a contemptuous look, Spartacus stepped away. ‘Atheas! Taxacis. We’re leaving.’
The Scythians moved away from Gannicus, who sat up, his face purple with rage.
A number of the Gauls’ men began to move towards them. Carbo tensed.
‘If I don’t return soon, Egbeo and Pulcher have orders to mobilise every soldier in the camp before coming here to look for me. You can choose whether that happens or not,’ said Spartacus loudly. ‘It doesn’t matter to me.’
Castus aimed an uncertain glance at Gannicus. ‘He’s lying.’
‘How would you know?’ retorted Gannicus. ‘Stay where you are,’ he ordered, and the warriors halted.
The four walked backwards until they were some thirty paces from the Gauls. ‘Good work,’ said Spartacus. He would have to watch his back from now on, but he doubted that there would be any more attempts on his life — from the Gauls at least. How long Castus and Gannicus would stay with the army was by no means certain, but for now they had learned their lesson. He could focus on searching out new recruits and finding pirates who could transport them to Sicily.
Both Scythians had broad grins plastered on their faces. So did Carbo. ‘A convincing lie just there.’
Spartacus winked. ‘Time to see my son.’ My son!
Chapter XII
Leaving Carbo outside with the Scythians, Spartacus ducked inside the tent. His eyes adjusted fast to the dim light, and he was pleased with what he saw. Someone — Egbeo or Pulcher, he supposed — had taken care to decorate it well. There were thick rugs on the floor, a number of large bronze lamps, two ebony chests and a rosewood table and chairs. However, his attention moved rapidly to the unmade bedding along one wall, and the hand-carved wooden cot that stood nearby. He craned his neck, but couldn’t see into it. Ariadne was by the crib, her back towards him. She was quietly singing.
Spartacus padded further inside, but he didn’t interrupt. The tranquil scene was so at odds with the one he’d just left, with what had happened since he’d left for Rome, that he needed a moment to return to normality. To return to his family. For in the time that he had been absent, that is what they had become.
An aching joy began to replace the fury he’d felt towards the Gauls. Ariadne was well, and so too was his son. Maron. You will never be forgotten, my brother.
Ariadne’s song came to an end. She bent over the cot and planted a soft kiss on the baby’s head before she turned to Spartacus. Her face was cold. ‘Thank you for not making any noise,’ she said in a flat tone.
‘You heard me come in.’
‘Yes. I heard you arrive a while ago too — and then leave without seeing your wife and your newborn son. To talk with Castus and Gannicus.’ She had to make an effort to lower her voice. ‘How could you?’
He took a step towards her. ‘Ariadne, I-’
‘Don’t,’ she interrupted, boiling with fury. ‘Don’t even speak to me! Take a look at Maron. You owe him that much at least.’
Clenching his jaw, Spartacus moved to the cot and peered in. The sight that met his eyes instantly made his anger disappear. A little black-haired shape, lying on its front, swaddled in a blanket. Side-on, a tiny, scrunched-up face with a button nose. His heart swelled with love and pride. ‘He’s so small.’
‘Maron is big for a boy, the midwife says. He’s put on a lot of weight since he was born too.’
Spartacus nodded. He knew next to nothing about babies. He stared at his son, wanting to touch him but wary of waking him or doing the wrong thing.
Ariadne read his mind. ‘For now, just rub his head or his back. You can pick him up once he’s had his nap.’
Reassured, Spartacus reached into the cot and stroked the soft skin of Maron’s cheek. A huge grin split his face at the touch; he gently repeated it. ‘Welcome to the world, my son,’ he whispered. ‘It is good to meet you at last.’
Maron twitched, startling him. He lifted his arm.
‘It’s all right, you haven’t woken him.’
Spartacus put his hand back into the cot. ‘He’s got your hair.’
‘And your eyes. Although the midwife says that they might still change colour.’
‘I don’t mind. The main thing is that he’s here safely, and that you are well.’
‘You’ve seen that that’s the case. Do you need to leave again?’
‘No, of course not.’ Her lips twitched, and he saw that while she was talking, she was still furious. ‘Maron is a fine name. I couldn’t have thought of a better one myself. No doubt my brother is watching from the warrior’s paradise. He’ll be very proud. My father will also.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘No, it means a lot, Ariadne. To me as well as to the dead. Thank you.’
She didn’t answer.
Spartacus had no desire for their argument to continue. Here at least, with his family, he wanted respite from conflict. ‘I did want to come in and see you both the moment I arrived. How can you doubt that?’
Her eyes searched his accusingly. ‘You’ve chosen your army over your family before. That I have forced myself to accept — almost — but to go and speak first with those pigs Castus and Gannicus? What kind of man are you?’
He was stung — and angered — by her comment. ‘You don’t understand!’
‘No, of course I don’t. I’m only a woman, eh?’ Maron stirred, and she frowned. ‘Step away, or we’ll wake him. He needs sleep. He had a restless night.’
Spartacus’ instant concern overrode his anger. ‘Is he ill?’
She gave him a withering look. ‘No. He’s just got a bit of colic.’
‘Colic? Like a horse gets?’
‘Yes, but not as serious. All babies get it from time to time. The midwife made up some fennel water this morning, and that has helped a lot.’
‘I took some of that once when I had bad gut cramp. It made me fart like my damn stallion!’ She didn’t smile at his joke. They stood in silence for a moment, and then he tried again. ‘I wanted to see you both, but I had to deal with something first.’
‘What could be more important than seeing your son?’ she hissed. ‘Did you want to boast to the Gauls about what you’d done, or found out?’
His irritation overflowed. ‘Be quiet, woman, and let me speak!’
Ariadne’s lips thinned, but she held her peace.
‘I’ll tell you what happened in Rome later. It’s important, but it’s not the reason that I didn’t come in here first.’
‘You’re not making any sense.’
‘Two nights ago, we were attacked in our camp by a group of men. If Carbo hadn’t heard them coming, we would both have been killed.’
Ariadne heard the truth in his words. Terrible images filled her mind. Remorse tore at her for being so presumptuous. ‘How did you get away?’
‘By running for our lives.’ Wryly, he indicated the rips in his tunic and the scratches on his arms and legs. ‘I’ve barely eaten or drunk since it happened. Not that I care. What mattered was getting back here, first to make sure that you hadn’t already been murdered, and second, to confront Castus and Gannicus.’
‘They were behind this? How do you know that the killers weren’t Roman?’
‘One of them spoke. Carbo said that he wasn’t a native Latin speaker. Besides, we had got out of Rome without difficulty. No one had followed us.’
‘So if it wasn’t Romans,’ she said, frowning, ‘it had to be someone who knew where you’d gone.’
‘That’s right. And there might be plenty of men in the army who aren’t fond of me, but Castus and Gannicus had to be the most likely candidates to want me dead.’
Thinking of the Gauls’ visit to her, Ariadne shuddered. Perhaps she had been more lucky than she’d realised.
