Phrygian helmet. Even his leather sandals had been polished. He looked magnificent, thought Carbo admiringly.
‘What do you want?’ barked Spartacus.
Taken aback, Carbo began explaining about Nola.
‘Tell me as I walk,’ ordered Spartacus. ‘I can’t stand around to listen.’
Carbo had to trot to keep up as they made their way along the camp’s main avenue.
Spartacus said nothing until they arrived at the headquarters, where he stopped. ‘It’s a good idea.’
Carbo took in the waiting shapes of Crixus, Castus and Gannicus. They don’t look happy. ‘Will you organise a raiding party?’
Spartacus looked at him. For the first time, Carbo noticed lines of exhaustion under his grey eyes. ‘We’ll see. It depends on what happens here.’
‘All right.’ Carbo waited to be dismissed.
Spartacus considered him for a moment, before chuckling mirthlessly. ‘Stay with me. You might as well. It’s your fate as well as mine that we’ll be deciding.’
Carbo’s confusion grew.
‘You’ll find out soon enough what’s going on. Remember to keep your mouth shut and your ears open.’
He nodded.
Spartacus walked over to the Gauls, who were also clad in their finest gear.
Carbo trailed a few steps behind Spartacus. This must be an important meeting.
‘What the hell is he doing here?’ Crixus pointed a thick finger at Carbo. ‘You’re not welcome.’
Crixus had never spoken to Carbo, but he’d thrown enough glares in the lad’s direction for him to know how the Gaul felt. With difficulty, he kept his face neutral. Arrogant bastard.
‘Carbo has been giving me the good news about a town called Nola, which lies to the north-east,’ said Spartacus calmly. ‘He came across it on a foraging mission. Apparently, it’s too good a prize to pass up. We’ll find weeks’ worth of supplies there.’
At this, Gannicus smiled. Castus grunted noncommittally, but Crixus sneered. ‘Big fucking deal.’
‘Finding new sources of food is important,’ observed Spartacus mildly.
‘That’s not what we’re here to talk about.’ Crixus glared at Carbo. ‘Piss off.’
Although he wanted to, Carbo wasn’t about to challenge Crixus. The move would cost him his life. Resentfully, he turned to leave.
‘He stays,’ said Spartacus in a sharp tone.
Delighted, Carbo froze.
‘Why?’ Crixus’ tone was bullish.
‘Some of your men are here.’ Spartacus indicated the half-dozen gladiators who lounged nearby.
‘I can trust them,’ retorted Crixus. ‘Your lapdog, however, is a cocksucking Roman.’
Carbo flushed with anger but Spartacus spoke before he could react. ‘Carbo has repeatedly proven his loyalty since we left the ludus. In case you’ve forgotten, he’s also the one who brought back Navio. Don’t try to deny that that man’s training has made an enormous difference to our fighting capability.’
‘Carbo is all right,’ said Gannicus in a placatory voice. ‘Eh, Castus?’
‘I suppose so,’ came the reluctant answer.
Crixus’ face grew sullen. ‘Suit yourself,’ he growled. ‘It will make no difference to what I do.’
‘What will you do?’ asked Spartacus. As if I don’t know.
‘Attack Varinius’ camp again! Ambush his men at every opportunity. Wipe the bastard out as soon as possible.’
‘Will you join him, Castus?’
‘I’m thinking of it, yes.’
How times have changed. A few months ago, you wouldn’t give Crixus the time of day. Spartacus eyed Gannicus, who was sucking on his moustache. ‘And you?’
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Gannicus replied awkwardly.
It’s as I thought. One against me, one probably against me, and one on the fence. Spartacus considered walking away, letting them splinter their army into little pieces, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Dionysus revealed that I could forge a proper army, one that can fight Rome and its legions. The chance to do that is too good just to throw away.
‘Are you still planning to run away?’ jibed Crixus.
If he’d been like this in the ludus, I never would have got the prick to agree to join us, Spartacus reflected, forcing himself to remain calm. All he needed was the chance to prove himself in battle. Now that he’s done that, men are prepared to follow him. But bravery only gets a soldier so far. Crixus has no tactical sense that I’ve seen. Out loud, he said, ‘I want to defeat Varinius too.’
Crixus’ brows lowered. ‘Have you come to your senses then?’
‘It’s what I’ve always aimed for,’ said Spartacus. ‘Just not right now.’
‘You want to wait. To move to another camp.’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me how that’s not running away,’ cried Crixus. And he was off, ranting how he and his men would wreak havoc on the local countryside; how they would annihilate Varinius and his cowardly troops; how they didn’t need Spartacus and his snake-in-the-grass Roman friends. Soon Castus added his voice to the tirade. The pair were encouraged by the vigorous noises of approval made by the watching Gaulish gladiators. Gannicus stood watching the performance, his eyes as beady as an old vulture’s.
Carbo began to grow despondent. He’d known something of the rivalries between the various leaders, but he’d never guessed that it was this bad. To his surprise and disappointment, Spartacus said nothing. He just listened.
At last Crixus’ outburst came to an end. ‘Cat got your tongue?’ he asked Spartacus acidly.
Castus snickered.
That’s it, thought Carbo. It’s over. They’ll leave. The army will fragment. Varinius will have no problem crushing us.
Bizarrely, Spartacus smiled. ‘I’ve got one simple question for you, Crixus.’
Crixus’ top lip peeled back with contempt. ‘What?’
‘How many legionaries do you think Varinius has left?’
‘Eh? What do I care?’
‘How many?’ demanded Spartacus.
‘I don’t know.’ Crixus gave a casual shrug. ‘Three thousand? Three and a half thousand?’
‘A man arrived yesterday who’d been a body slave to one of Varinius’ senior officers.’ Spartacus was pleased to see Gannicus and Castus stiffen. Even Crixus’ face changed. Didn’t know that, did you? ‘He has close to four and a half thousand legionaries.’
‘A thousand extra troops will make no difference. Nor will fifteen hundred,’ blustered Crixus. ‘They’ll run just as fast as the rest.’
Time to spring the trap. ‘If you leave, how many men will follow you?’
‘Two and a half thousand, give or take,’ Crixus replied proudly.
‘And you, Castus?’
‘About the same.’
‘I know that approximately two thousand answer to you, Gannicus.’ He turned back to Crixus. ‘How many of your lot are ready to stand up to legionaries in open combat?’
Crixus’ expression grew thunderous.
‘Come on, you must have an idea. Every good general knows the disposition of his forces,’ cajoled Spartacus.
‘Less than half,’ Crixus muttered.
‘If that,’ retorted Spartacus sharply. ‘The same applies to your followers, Castus, or I’m no judge of a soldier.’
Castus glowered but did not reply.
Carbo’s spirits rose. Spartacus is a genius!
