defenceless? That’s the best example of pure stupidity I’ve seen in a while.’
‘But this isn’t real. It’s only practice,’ retorted Carbo.
Grimly, Paccius drove at Carbo again, hammering a brutal series of cuts on his shield. An occasional blow glanced off the side of his head, sending stars shooting across his vision. It was all he could do just to hold his ground. Finally, the Samnite eased his assault. ‘Do you understand now why you never drop your weapon?’ he demanded.
‘Yes,’ muttered Carbo resentfully. To his relief, Paccius did not belabour the point. ‘Go and pick it up. We’ll come back to the palus later. It’s time to start building up your general fitness.’ He saw Carbo’s questioning look and laughed. ‘See that tree?’ he asked, pointing into the distance.
Carbo squinted, making out a lone beech about half a mile away. ‘Yes.’
‘I want you to run there and back again.’ There was a slight pause. ‘Five times, carrying your gladius and shield. Without stopping.’
Carbo wanted to tell Paccius where he could shove his wooden sword. I’m here to learn. He nodded firmly.
‘Go on, then! What are you waiting for?’
Beginning to realise what he had let himself in for, Carbo took off at a fast trot.
Several hours passed, during which the Samnite allowed Carbo three breaks, brief affairs to allow him to catch his breath, swallow a mouthful of water and nothing more. After his five-mile run, Paccius had set him to attacking the palus again, although at a slower pace. Press-ups, stretches and more running followed; after that, there had been yet more work with the sword and shield. When the Samnite declared at last that they had done enough for the day, Carbo was on the point of collapse. He was damned if he’d admit to that, however. ‘How was I?’ he asked boldly.
Paccius stared at him askance. ‘Looking for praise on your first day? Don’t bother. You’d have been killed in the initial moments of any battle.’
Carbo glowered.
Paccius clapped him on the back. ‘Don’t lose heart. I could say the same of any raw recruit. To be fair, you showed a lot more passion than most.’
Carbo grinned. This was high praise indeed. Then his smile faded. Has Father succeeded?
‘What is it?’ asked the Samnite. ‘You’ve been preoccupied all day.’
‘It’s nothing,’ replied Carbo grimly.
Paccius’ eyebrows rose.
I can’t tell him. Carbo glanced at the sun. ‘We’d better head back.’
‘No point raising your parents’ suspicions,’ agreed the Samnite.
Carbo grunted in agreement, but his mind was already fixed upon finding out what was going on with his father. He couldn’t bear not knowing any longer.
They trudged back in silence. Soon they had joined the last part of the Via Appia before it entered the city. As always, the road was choked with traffic travelling in both directions. Sturdy carts full of hay or root vegetables creaked along, drawn by pairs of impassive oxen. Farmers walked alongside, using murmured encouragements and, intermittently, their whips. Merchants strode in front of their wagons, which were laden with trading goods: red Samian ware, amphorae containing wine or olive oil, and bales of cloth. Next were the bodyguards: groups of unshaven, dangerous-looking men carrying spears, clubs and the occasional sword. It was their job to protect the merchandise rumbling along the road before them. A column of slaves, each attached to the next by a neck chain, shuffled along behind their owner and his armed henchmen. Official messengers on horseback distastefully picked their way through flocks of sheep being driven to slaughter. A party of legionaries marched by, their shields slapping gently off their backs. They bawled a rowdy chorus, which their optio chose studiously to ignore.
Impotent fury filled Carbo. That was the kind of comradeship he longed for but would never have. Crazy ideas filled his mind. Maybe he should just run away and join the army? His conscience instantly reined him in. You can’t desert your family while it’s in such dire straits. Carbo was desperate to help in some way, and a legionary’s yearly pay would be nowhere near enough to cover his father’s debts. In frustration, he kicked a loose stone along the road’s paved surface. It skittered away and struck the fetlock of a nervous horse in front. Rearing up in panic, it almost unseated its rider, a florid-faced man in early middle age. Curses filled the air and Carbo quickly took an interest in the landscape off to his right. A pity that wasn’t Crassus. A pity he didn’t fall off and break his neck.
‘Fortunate that you weren’t seen, eh?’ murmured Paccius as the man regained control of his mount. ‘I’d say he would have shown you the business end of his whip. Sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?’
Carbo shook his head. He couldn’t bear the idea of Paccius having a new master, of never seeing him again. The Samnite shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
They passed under the massive archway that formed Capua’s southern entrance. There were several other such gates in the tall stone walls that ringed the city. The defences hadn’t been used since the second war with Carthage, when the local politicians had foolishly decided to defect to Hannibal’s cause. The punishment meted out by Rome had been severe: to this very day, the city was directly ruled by a praetor, and its inhabitants had not yet regained the civic rights accorded to the rest of Italy’s population. Civic rights? thought Carbo resentfully. Will I even have any of those soon?
Soon after, they’d reached his family home. They had barely entered the atrium when the summons rang out. ‘Carbo!’
Gods, he must have been waiting for us. Jupiter, let it be good news.
Jovian was standing in the doorway of his office, a simply decorated room situated off the courtyard. Carbo didn’t especially like the space. No swords or military mementos here, just stands displaying busts of famous Roman and Greek orators, long-dead men whose names his father had drummed into him but which he refused to remember. Carbo felt — and resented — their heavy-lidded stares on him the moment he entered.
Jovian was scanning a parchment. As Carbo approached, he let it snap closed with a sigh. ‘Where were you?’
‘Training with Paccius, Father.’
Jovian gave him a blank look.
‘With the discus and javelin, remember?’
‘Ah yes. Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself. There won’t be much of that from now on.’
Carbo’s heart sank. ‘Why not?’
‘You’ve probably noticed that I’ve been quite preoccupied of late.’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you aware of why we moved to Capua four years ago?’
Carbo’s head filled with happy memories of the former family home, a respectably sized villa on their land. ‘Not really.’
‘I couldn’t afford the upkeep of such a large property.’ Shame filled Jovian’s blue eyes.
‘How can that be?’ cried Carbo incredulously.
‘It comes down to little more than the price of Egyptian grain. It’s ruinous! How any Italian farmer can compete, I do not know. It costs more to produce wheat here than it does to import it from hundreds of miles away.’ Jovian sighed. ‘I told myself each year that things would improve, that the harvests in Egypt would fail, that the gods would answer my prayers. I took out large loans to keep the farm running. And what happened? The price of grain fell even further. For the last twelve months, we have had no income worth talking about, and there’s no sign of that changing.’
‘So…’ began Carbo uneasily.
‘We’re ruined, Carbo. Ruined. My biggest creditor is a politician in Rome. Marcus Licinius Crassus. You’ve heard of him?’
‘Yes.’ I heard correctly, then.
‘According to his agent, whom I deal with, Crassus’ patience is exhausted. It’s not that surprising, I suppose. I haven’t made a payment for more than three months.’ Jovian’s jaw hardened. ‘What I can’t forgive is Crassus is taking not just the farm and the villa, but this house too.’
Carbo felt a numbness taking hold of him.
‘Did you hear me?’
His father’s voice came as if through a long tunnel.
