Carbo flushed and fell silent.
‘Why don’t you make yourself useful? Go into the house and search for weapons.’
With a relieved look, Carbo disappeared.
A new set of high-pitched screams reached Spartacus. It was coming from the slave quarters. That’s where the other warriors are. Stupid fools, he thought. Carbo had a point. We need more recruits, not enemies. Who’ll want to join us if our men have raped their womenfolk? Calling for Atheas and Taxacis, he marched towards the wailing sounds.
Some discipline had to be maintained.
Two weeks passed without any sign of Roman soldiers. With every day that went by, however, Spartacus’ tension grew. It was inevitable that the Senate would send a force to crush them. The only unknown was when it would arrive. The sands of time were slipping away, and while they did, the other gladiators did nothing to prepare. Together with their leaders, they watched and jeered as Spartacus mercilessly trained his men and a number of the slaves who’d joined them. Most of his followers were now better armed than their erstwhile comrades. They had Carbo to thank for it. He was the one who had found a large stash of weapons — swords, javelins, spears and daggers — at the villa. The weapons were a major addition to the Thracians’ cause, but they still lacked shields and helmets. It would make little difference to the outcome, but it galled Spartacus. His men deserved more.
Spartacus also poured energy into instructing Carbo. It was a pleasure to have a pupil so eager to learn. The young Roman appeared to have learned his lesson at the latifundium, and had not mentioned the episode again. It’s as well, thought Spartacus, because rapes will happen anyway. Ugly as it is, it’s an integral part of war. Carbo’s keen attitude also helped to take Spartacus’ mind from his concerns. During this time, he did not ask Ariadne about his dream either. There was little point. He’d come to the conclusion that the snake symbolised Rome and its legions, and that it was his fate to die in battle against them. Spartacus brooded about it each day as he sat on the lip of the crater, studying the countryside far below. It wasn’t the worst fate a man could have. It was better than dying in the arena while thousands of Romans bayed for his blood. His decision to stay had been the right one. He was returning the loyalty of his followers by leading, not abandoning them. His men were also the reason it had been better not to head for Thrace. I cannot desert them. What of Ariadne, though? Troublingly, to this he had no answer.
Spartacus was in this spot one morning when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Atheas quietly approaching. He didn’t turn his head. ‘What is it?’
‘Important… visitor.’
Spartacus’ focus drifted away from the panorama below. ‘Spit it out, then.’
‘A farm slave has come… to join us.’
‘And?’
‘He has seen soldiers… marching towards… mountain.’
Spartacus spun around. ‘How far from here?’
‘A day away, he says.’
So near. ‘Bring him to me at once!’
Atheas hurried off, returning soon after with a strapping figure in tow. Curious, Spartacus eyed the unarmed newcomer, who was clad in a coarse tunic that was little more than rags. He was young, broad-shouldered, and his skin was burned dark brown from a lifetime working outdoors. His round, pleasant face was marred by an ugly purple scar that ran across his left cheek.
‘Stop,’ Atheas ordered when they were ten steps from Spartacus.
Gazing at Spartacus with open curiosity, the slave obeyed.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Aventianus, master.’
‘There are no masters in this camp, Aventianus. Here we are all equal. Free men.’
‘They said that you treated everyone in this way, but I put it down to rumour. Until now.’
‘It is no rumour. You bring news, I believe?’
‘Yes. Yesterday, a large force of soldiers-’
‘How many?’ interrupted Spartacus.
‘About three thousand.’
Spartacus mouthed a curse. What was I thinking? Eighty of us do against that many? The figure might as well be a hundred thousand. ‘Go on.’
‘They reached the edge of my master’s land by mid-afternoon. The commander, a praetor, asked permission to camp for the night; my master was happy to oblige. He invited the detachment’s senior officers to dine with him. During the evening, it was revealed that the troops had been sent by the Senate itself. Their mission is to come to Vesuvius… and crush your uprising.’
Spartacus lifted a hand, stopping Aventianus again. ‘There are men who need to hear this.’ He glanced at Atheas. ‘Fetch the other leaders. Tell them it’s urgent.’
Spartacus was surprised that his dominant emotion was one of relief. The waiting is over.
It wasn’t long before Atheas returned with Oenomaus and the three Gauls. All four men’s faces were concerned and angry.
The word is already out.
‘What in Toutatis’ name is going on?’ demanded Crixus.
‘Fill them in on what you’ve told me so far,’ Spartacus ordered.
As Aventianus obeyed, Crixus began to swear violently under his breath. Oenomaus, his face impassive, listened in silence. Castus and Gannicus gave each other sour glances.
‘Three thousand fucking legionaries!’ spat Oenomaus. ‘Any cavalry?’
‘No.’
‘They’d be useless up here anyway,’ said Crixus.
‘Do we know their commander’s name?’ asked Spartacus.
‘Caius Claudius Glaber,’ replied Aventianus. ‘He’s a praetor.’
‘Never heard of the prick,’ Castus growled.
His name’s irrelevant. Spartacus rubbed a finger along his lips, thinking. ‘Has he any military experience?’
‘No. He seemed confident, though.’
‘Of course he did, the cocksucker,’ snarled Castus. ‘He has almost forty men to every one of ours.’
Aventianus cleared his throat. ‘They’re not regular legionaries.’
The Gauls were so angry that they didn’t take in Aventianus’ words, but Spartacus did. So did Oenomaus. ‘Say that again,’ ordered Spartacus.
‘Glaber said that the Senate refused to classify this as an uprising, merely naming it an emergency. It didn’t warrant a levy of troops on the Campus Martius. Glaber protested, but was overruled, so he had to recruit his soldiers on the march south from Rome. There are some veterans, but most are citizen farmers or townspeople without much military experience.’
‘Some good news!’ said Spartacus. Will it make any difference, though?
Castus made a contemptuous noise. ‘I imagine that there will be plenty of them to do the job.’
‘At least we can make a glorious end for ourselves.’ Crixus mimed a savage sword thrust, and then another. ‘One that the gods will have to notice.’
Castus and Gannicus glowered in silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Aventianus.
‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ responded Oenomaus at once. ‘You have come here to warn us, risking your life of your own accord. It is we who are in your debt.’
‘I tried to get others on the farm to join me, but no one would. They said there were too many soldiers.’ Aventianus hung his head.
‘You are a brave man.’ Spartacus stepped over and gripped his shoulder. ‘How long did it take you to get here?’
‘I ran for about three hours.’
‘So they will get here by this afternoon,’ said Spartacus, approximating.
Aventianus nodded. ‘It’s what Glaber was counting on.’
