around your left arm. You turned to the east and raised your sword. You cried out, as if you were honouring someone. Then you vanished.’
‘What-’
She touched a finger to his lips, silencing him. ‘I’m not finished.’
‘When I looked back at the crater, it was filled with tents.’ She gestured around her. ‘There were hundreds of men here. They were your followers.’
‘What are you telling me?’
‘I am saying that Dionysus has favoured you. It was his snake around your neck. You are surrounded by a great and fearful power. Men will see that. They will come to offer you their loyalty.’
‘You are sure of all this?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes.’ Ariadne’s voice rang with confidence. ‘As I am a priestess of Dionysus.’
‘I thought that perhaps this would happen to me in Thrace, if I succeeded in overthrowing Kotys,’ Spartacus said wonderingly. ‘But my path did not unfold in that way. Instead I am in Italy, in the heartland of our people’s worst enemy. So be it. It is Dionysus’ will that I should lead men against the Romans. Who am I to argue with a god?’
‘I will stand at your side.’
He smiled, and her stomach fluttered.
‘Good. That is where I would have you.’
‘It is where a wife should stand.’ Before she could stop herself, Ariadne forced her feet to move. She stepped up to Spartacus. Leaning in, she kissed him on the lips.
He responded with fierce enthusiasm.
For the first time in her life, Ariadne felt a rush of sexual desire. She did not fight it.
At length, Spartacus pulled away.
Panic immediately flared in Ariadne’s lower belly. He doesn’t like me. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing at all. Much as I’d love to stay here, there is too much to be done.’ He grinned. ‘We can take up things right where they left off later.’
Reassured, she gave him a last, shy kiss. ‘Good.’ Ariadne’s stomach twisted at the thought of lying with him, but she ignored it. ‘What are your plans?’
‘To get all the equipment we’ve seized up here. To arm every man properly. Then I’m going to explain to the other leaders that our victory last night was a one-off. The Romans won’t ever make that mistake again. If we’re not to be crushed by the next force sent against us, the gladiators have to start training. Like soldiers. The Thracians will do what I tell them. So will the Germans, but I need the Gauls too.’
‘They’ll listen to you now.’
‘They’d fucking well better. Fighting as a disciplined unit is our only hope,’ replied Spartacus grimly. ‘Can you take charge of the women? An inventory of the food and wine would be useful.’
‘Of course.’
‘My thanks.’ Despite his concerns over their future, Spartacus walked off with a spring in his step. Gods, but I can’t wait until tonight.
Conscious that most gladiators wanted to do nothing more than drink the Roman wine — copious amounts of which remained — Spartacus placed Atheas, Taxacis and half a dozen Thracians on guard over the majority of the amphorae. Chaffing the fighters about how much they could knock back that night, he made a big show of helping to load a train of mules with bundles of weapons and then slogging all the way up to the crater with it. When he got back, Spartacus did the same thing again. His tactic worked. While the men continued to grumble, they followed his orders. That was good enough. A certain amount of complaining is healthy anyway. It shows that they’re throwing off the slave mentality. He’d made the decision to say nothing about training until the following day. That issue was potentially far more contentious than denying the fighters wine, and it would be easier to propose when everyone had a hangover.
It took the whole day for the military paraphernalia and supplies to be transported to the camp. The respite between the departure of one column of mules and the arrival of another provided ample time for the freshly arrived cargo to be counted and arranged in piles. Arming a delighted Carbo with a stylus and parchment, Spartacus had him draw up the records. The stacks of pila — javelins — gladii and shields were soon taller than a man and more than twice his height in length and breadth. They had arms enough for thousands of men. This realisation darkened Spartacus’ good mood again. There are still less than one hundred of us.
He didn’t feel bad for long. Yes, and look what we managed to achieve.
Spartacus intentionally had the amphorae brought up last of all. Raucous cheering broke out as the mules and their precious load arrived at the lip of the crater. Without waiting until the column reached the tents, the most eager fighters ran over and unloaded one of the large clay vessels. Everyone watched as it was opened and then hoisted up on to a man’s shoulder. He held it in place while his comrades took it in turns to stand, mouths open, beneath the stream of ruby liquid that poured out. Applause and laughter filled the evening air as the soaked fighters raised their arms in triumph.
‘There it is, boys!’ shouted Spartacus. ‘More wine than you can drink!’
‘Do you want to make a wager on that?’ roared a broad-chested Gaul. ‘If I have anything to do with it, there won’t be a drop left by dawn.’
His comment was met by hoots and cackles of amusement.
Spartacus smiled. ‘It’s all yours. After last night, you’ve earned it.’
The gladiators bellowed their delight at him.
Spartacus waited until the drinking had been going on for a while before he approached Castus and Gannicus. United perhaps by their achievement, the two were sitting by a fire over which chunks of wild boar were cooking. There was no sign of Crixus and his men.
‘Look, the smell draws him in,’ teased Gannicus.
‘It’s good enough to wake the dead,’ said Spartacus.
‘Aye. There are few things more appealing than the aroma of roast pork.’ Castus waved genially at a stone beside him. ‘Take a seat. Wine?’
Spartacus accepted the silver cup with a grateful nod. ‘A fine vessel.’
‘They’re from Glaber’s own table,’ gloated Castus, raising his own. ‘He didn’t mind me taking them.’
Spartacus chuckled. ‘To a fine night’s work. To Getas, Oenomaus and the others who fell.’ He raised his wine high.
The two Gauls saluted him with their cups, and they all drank deeply.
They made small talk about what had happened during their attack. Although they must have known, neither Gaul mentioned Spartacus’ accession to power over the Germans. He wasn’t surprised. No doubt they were resentful of it. He tried to judge when would be the best moment to mention training the men. Too soon, and the pair might take offence, thinking that had been his only intention in talking to them. He wanted to leave it until the wine had dulled their senses, but not so late that they became argumentative or too drunk to understand his proposal.
A familiar, mocking voice cut across their conversation.
‘Well, well. What have we here? A gathering of the leaders that I wasn’t invited to?’
‘It’s nothing like that.’ Spartacus took in Crixus’ flushed cheeks. He must have sobered up somewhat to climb the mountain, but it didn’t look like much. Damn it. Why did he have to appear? He patted the ground beside him. ‘Join us.’
‘I will.’ With a sneer, Crixus threw himself down. ‘What’ve you been doing? Claiming how you each won the battle last night?’
‘No, we leave that to you,’ responded Castus sharply.
Crixus glowered as Gannicus roared with laughter. ‘Funny man, aren’t you?’
‘So some say.’ Castus’ words danced, but his eyes were as flat and cold as a snake’s.
‘A man knows when he’s not welcome. I’ll drink elsewhere,’ growled Crixus. He made to get up.
‘Wait,’ said Spartacus. I might as well tackle them all now. Maybe their antagonism against each other will stop them unifying against me. ‘I have something to say.’
‘Why does that not surprise me?’ needled Crixus.
Castus’ face took on its usual suspicious expression.
