Later, Ariadne would look back on the days and weeks that followed as a halcyon time. Spring moved into summer, and she allowed herself to forget her troubled childhood, Kotys, their journey to Italy and the ludus. She even expelled Phortis from her mind. She did not consider the future or the idea of travelling back to Thrace. What was the point? She was happier than she’d ever been. And it was all down to one man. Spartacus. She couldn’t get enough of his company. She wanted to know everything about him, and he seemed to feel the same way about her. Truly, the gods must have united them, Ariadne thought. Here she was, free as a bird, living at the top of Vesuvius with her man, and his ever-growing band of followers.
Within a month, it had become clear that there would be no immediate reprisal for the humiliation inflicted upon Glaber and his soldiers. Firstly, there were no troops in the area. Secondly, as Spartacus said, choosing a new commander and the best plan of attack would take the Senate time. So would raising a new force of legionaries. Unless there was great need, Rome kept no legions on its home territory. Thirdly, there could be no surprise assault on the gladiators. Their camp’s lofty position granted stupendous views on all sides, and on every estate for fifty miles there were now slaves who would burst their lungs to carry to Spartacus the news of a Roman column.
Spartacus drove himself hard. This period of respite had to be used wisely. It was a time to train the gladiators mercilessly, honing them into infantry. To forge the many hundreds of raw recruits — most of who had never even held a weapon before — into soldiers. To organise hunting parties, and bands that could range far from Vesuvius, raiding for newly harvested grain and stocks of iron and bronze. Often led by Crixus or Castus, who used the opportunities to avoid training, the marauders spread the word that any man used to working in the fields or tending livestock would be welcome at Vesuvius. Domestic slaves were not wanted. They needed men who were used to rough, outdoor lives. Men who could fight.
But for Ariadne, it was a time of pure, unadulterated joy. Although the threat of reprisal was ever present, it was easy enough in the warm days to forget all about Rome and its legions. To exult in the fact that, for the first time in her life, she was in love.
Unsurprisingly, her daylight hours were filled with toil. Organising the womenfolk, of whom there were now more than two hundred, came naturally to her. So did acting as the camp’s quartermaster. She also revelled in being the rebels’ talisman. From the start, Ariadne had made sure that Spartacus spoke about his dream often, and of her interpretation of it. The gladiators and slaves lapped it up. They had found not just freedom by running away from their masters, and a charismatic leader, but a mouthpiece of their most revered deity, one unsuccessfully banned by Rome more than a century before. In their eyes, Ariadne was a priestess of Dionysus, and Spartacus was his appointed one. They regarded both with awe, and news of the couple spread far and wide.
Spartacus’ time was also taken up with drilling the gladiators and new recruits, or consulting with Pulcher, the blacksmith who had challenged him. Pulcher was now one of his trusted men, and the rebels’ de facto armourer. Along with several other smiths, it was his job to melt down slave chains and fashion arrowheads and swords. To bake sharpened stakes until their fire-hardened tips would skewer a man with ease. To hammer out sheets of bronze into plain, serviceable helmets. A motley group of slaves worked alongside Pulcher, making shields.
Periodically, Spartacus would lead a raiding party out to gather information, but for the most part, he stayed at the camp. Every dusk, sunburned and covered in sweat, he would saunter towards their tent. His smile lit up Ariadne’s heart. So did the words he murmured in her ear as they sat side by side looking out over the Campanian plain, and the way he made her feel when they retired to their blankets. Falling to sleep in his arms under a canopy of glittering stars felt like all she’d ever wanted.
It was no surprise that Ariadne looked forward to each evening with a fierce hunger. She clutched the hours to her as if they were the last she’d ever see. The dawn became her enemy, because its arrival meant the end of her time with Spartacus. Until the next sunset.
She wished that the summer — the fantasy — would last forever.
But of course it didn’t.
Chapter XIII
One morning, not long after the grain had been harvested, Ariadne woke feeling chilled to the bone. During the hot months, she’d grown accustomed to sleeping outdoors, with little in the way of blankets. That would have to change, she thought, shivering. The blades of grass around her were coated in a fine layer of dew, and there was a damp cool in the air that hadn’t been there the previous dawn. An inexplicable sadness stole over her. Somehow the drop in temperature felt like the cooling of a body after death. She could almost taste the sweet decay.
‘Autumn is around the corner,’ said Spartacus from his pile of covers.
‘It is.’ She gave him a bright, false smile.
He saw through it at once. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. Something’s changed. The air feels different.’
His face hardened. ‘It will be the Romans, then. They had to come sooner or later.’
‘You’re sure?’ Ariadne could feel the cold truth of it in her belly, but she didn’t want to be the one to say it.
He shrugged. ‘If it isn’t today, it will be tomorrow or the next day. Maybe we’ll even have a week’s grace. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Why not?’ I wanted our time never to end!
‘We have to face our fate eventually, Ariadne,’ he said gently, sitting up. ‘You know that as well as I do.’
‘Too much waiting around, and the men will go stale.’
‘More than that. They’ll start refusing to train. Become proper latrones. They might turn against me.’
She shot him a horrified look. ‘They wouldn’t dare!’
‘You say that. Crixus is only happy because he’s been roaming the area like a Cilician pirate on the Adriatic, attacking whatever he chooses. Castus is the same, and there are a couple of Germans who’ve started giving me the eye when I order them to do something. Those who were slaves are learning to love their freedom, which is good, but…’ Spartacus smacked one fist into the other. ‘It’s time to lead them into battle. That will settle things down. Thin their blood a little.’
She couldn’t stop herself. ‘You could be killed!’
‘That’s right, my love.’
It was the first time he’d ever used those words, and Ariadne’s heart skipped a beat.
‘But I’m not going to run away from this fight. That’s not the type of man I am. Don’t forget that Dionysus has honoured me with his blessing.’
‘I know,’ she said, trying to make her pride more evident than her worries.
He reached over and kissed her. ‘I’m not going to throw away my life like a fool either. The men have been training hard, but they’re still not up to standing toe-to-toe with thousands of legionaries. And while they might think so, neither are Crixus’ and Castus’ followers. We’re not going to fight the bastards in open battle.’
The ache in Ariadne’s belly eased. ‘What will you do?’
‘Ambush them. Come at the column in woods or forest if we can. Break up their lines. Cause panic, as we did in Glaber’s camp. That’s the way to take the fight to them.’
‘The fight,’ she repeated slowly.
‘Yes,’ cried Spartacus. ‘That’s what it is. Except it’s in Italy, not Thrace.’
Ariadne’s fear resurged. Is this what you meant, Dionysus? Seeing the passion burning in his eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out again. ‘This is your path.’
‘For the moment, it is.’ He tapped his chest. ‘I can feel it here.’
‘Therefore it is mine too.’ To whatever end.
‘That gladdens my heart.’ He squeezed her tight. ‘I have to go. Men must be sent out to find this new Roman force.’
When the scouts returned, they reported nothing but the usual traffic on the local roads. They’d seen traders and their mules, farmers with heavily laden carts and small bands of travellers. A messenger had been spotted; so too had an itinerant soothsayer and a group of lepers. There had even been a rich man in his litter, accompanied by a retinue of bodyguards and slaves.
