tops of their voices. The five men were spattered from head to toe in scarlet gore. Their helmets, their faces, their arms and their mail were covered in it. It was impossible to tell whether the blood was Roman or their own, but the effect was the same. Their appearance was shocking, turning them into very devils of the underworld. The legionaries’ advance stopped dead in its tracks. Laughing, Castus and his men threw themselves at the Romans, whose faces crumpled in complete terror. Without hesitation, they turned and ran.
‘After them!’ yelled Spartacus. ‘Don’t give the fuckers time to think!’
Howling like a pack of wolves, Carbo and the others followed him.
An hour or so later, it was all over. Spartacus paced up and down, staring at the figures of hundreds of legionaries fleeing to the north. There was scarcely room to move on the road. Mangled bodies lay everywhere: ringed by crimson stains, missing limbs, with pila jutting from their bellies. Discarded Roman equipment littered the ground as far as the eye could see.
‘We did it.’ Carbo’s three words conveyed all kinds of disbelief and awe.
‘That’s right,’ replied Spartacus with grim satisfaction. ‘It often takes just one little thing to create panic. But when it starts, it’s like the plague. Unstoppable.’
‘The tipping point was your seizure of the standard.’
‘And Castus’ manic charge. It’s a pity we didn’t kill more of them. Still, it’s to be expected.’ Spartacus jerked a thumb at the nearest slaves. Whoops of delight rose up as they stalked among the Roman injured, killing whomever they found alive and looting choice pieces of equipment. ‘They’re not soldiers yet. In the circumstances, we did well.’
Well? thought Carbo. It was incredible! ‘How many got away, do you think?’
‘It’s hard to say. Half of them; maybe more. It doesn’t really matter. What counts is that we won!’ Spartacus’ teeth shone white amid the blood on his face. ‘We won, Carbo, and that’s what the men will remember. It’s what the slaves in a hundred-mile radius will hear. Mark my words: our numbers will double again in the next week.’
Spartacus’ enthusiasm was infectious, and Carbo’s spirits rose even further. ‘What will you do next?’
‘Keep training the men.’ Spartacus paused, before fixing Carbo with his steely grey eyes. ‘I haven’t forgotten when you brought Navio to the camp, you know. There was a time when I’d have had a man executed on the spot for such a transgression.’
Carbo’s brow went slick with sweat.
Spartacus’ face softened a fraction. ‘I’m glad that I didn’t. I watched him fight today. Navio’s no friend of Rome. He’s also excellent at military instruction.’
‘I-’
Spartacus held up his hand. ‘I’m convinced that the men fought better today because of what Navio has taught them. You have my thanks. And so does he.’
Carbo grinned like a fool.
‘We can’t remain complacent. On the scale of things, today was but a minor victory. The rest of the six thousand legionaries have to be tracked down. I want to know what they’re up to.’
‘Are you going to fight them?’
‘In open battle? Not if I can help it. We’ll try and surprise the dogs as we did here.’ As I would have done in Thrace, if I’d ever got the chance.
The idea of ambushing more of his own countrymen filled Carbo with excitement. Why don’t I feel like a traitor? he wondered. His heart gave him an instant answer. Spartacus believed in him. Trusted him.
Apart from Paccius, no one else ever had.
Upon returning to their camp, Carbo fell into conversation with Egbeo, a hulking Thracian gladiator who was one of Spartacus’ most loyal followers. He was stunned to hear from Egbeo that Amatokos, Chloris’ lover, had been slain during the fight with Furius’ soldiers. ‘Apparently, he killed more than half a dozen legionaries when his sword snapped,’ said Egbeo sourly. ‘That was it. The poor bastard had no chance after that.’ A dark joy suffused Carbo at the news, but he quickly faked a sorrowful expression. ‘He’ll go straight to Elysium.’
Egbeo’s frown eased a little. ‘The warrior’s paradise? Aye, there’s no doubt about that. I’ll warrant that the Rider himself will welcome Amatokos inside.’
Carbo murmured in agreement, but he was already wondering when to approach Chloris. If he didn’t move fast, another fighter might muscle in on her. At the same time, he didn’t want to appear ghoulish. Amatokos’ corpse hadn’t even been placed in the ground. In the event, he decided to wait. In all likelihood, the funeral would take place that evening, and the chances of anyone staking a claim to Chloris before the following day were slim indeed.
Carbo was afforded no chance to talk to her the next morning. Many of the Roman dead had been stripped of their weapons and armour but plenty of equipment still littered the field. Spartacus ordered that every able-bodied man was to do his bit, whether that was standing on guard, on the lookout for Varinius, or collecting discarded gladii, shields and pila. Carbo sweated alongside his troops, loading up the mules that they’d taken from Glaber’s camp, and which had proved immeasurably useful. He was glad when the job was done, not least because of the flies that coated the entire area in black, humming clouds and the stench of death that filled his nostrils: a potent, decaying mixture of blood, shit, vomit and piss.
The first thing Carbo did upon his return to the crater was to strip naked and wash the encrusted grime from his body. Then, wearing his only clean tunic, he headed in the direction of the tent that Chloris had shared with Amatokos. Hearing the sound of raised tones as he neared it, Carbo’s pace quickened.
He made out Chloris first. ‘Leave me alone!’
‘I just thought you might like some company.’ Carbo didn’t recognise the gravelly voice.
‘Well, I don’t. Piss off and leave me alone.’
Instantly, the man’s manner changed. ‘Be like that if you want to, gorgeous. I like a bit of rough.’
Chloris screamed, and Carbo broke into a sprint. Thank the gods I’m wearing my sword. A heartbeat later, he burst on to the scene. Chloris was backed up against the entrance to her tent, her hands raised defensively against a wiry figure in a mail shirt. ‘Aren’t you going to put up a fight? I’d prefer it that way.’
‘Hey! Cocksucker!’ Carbo’s blade was in his hand before he even knew it. ‘I’ll fight you.’
Slowly, the man turned. He had a narrow, weasel-like face, and Carbo recognised him as one of the few Samnites who had escaped from the ludus. His lip curled, and his hand strayed towards the hilt of his own weapon. ‘Will you now?’
‘Step away from her!’ Carbo ordered. ‘She wants nothing to do with shitbags like you.’
There was a leer. ‘She wasn’t protesting too much.’
‘You piece of maggot-blown filth! Raping a woman is what it takes to excite you, is it?’ Carbo’s fury boiled over, and he lunged forward, thrusting his gladius at the Samnite’s belly. Alarmed, the man scrambled off to the side.
‘You’re fucking crazy! Going to kill me over a whore like this?’
‘She’s no whore,’ snarled Carbo, stabbing at the other again and again, giving him no chance to draw his sword.
‘All right, all right, I get the idea. I’m not going to argue with one of Spartacus’ cronies.’ Raising his hands in the air, the glowering Samnite withdrew.
Carbo spat after him. Only when the man was out of sight did he relax. Chloris was eyeing him when he turned, her dark eyes full of unshed tears. ‘Sorry I didn’t get here sooner.’
She took a step towards him. ‘You came in good time. Thank you.’
‘It was nothing.’
‘Far from it. He would have raped me.’
‘The prick won’t come back if he values his balls.’
She smiled. ‘Why won’t he?’
Carbo coloured, realising that by driving the Samnite off, he had made a very public statement. Weirdly, he felt more scared by that than he had before the ambush. Chloris came closer, gazing at him with her deep, dark eyes. Damn it, say something! ‘Would you like…?’ he faltered.
‘To be your woman? Yes, I would.’ She stepped in, and laid her head against his chest.
‘Right.’ Awkwardly, because of the sword in his right hand, he put his arms around her. His fingers traced the flesh of her back, and she folded herself against him. They stayed like that for a few moments. Carbo didn’t know
