Spartacus caught first Crixus’ eye, and then that of Castus. He ignored Gannicus. I’ll pretend he’s with me, even if he isn’t. ‘So you’re going to take on Varinius and the guts of a legion with fewer than three thousand fighting men?’
‘So what if I am?’ snapped Crixus, going red.
‘Fair enough.’ Spartacus’ tone was light. Carbo ducked his head to hide his grin. Crixus had been made out to be at best a braggart, and at worst a fool. ‘Have you thought about whether Varinius might attack the camp?’ Spartacus went on.
Crixus gave a confident laugh. ‘After all we’ve done to them, they’re too shit scared to try.’
‘Maybe so,’ admitted Spartacus. ‘I think Varinius might feel differently, however, when he hears that more than ten thousand men have left with me and Gannicus.’ Great Rider, help me now. Let him have heard my words.
‘Gannicus?’ Crixus’ growl was furious. ‘You’re coming with us, aren’t you?’
Gannicus tugged at his moustache, but when he spoke his tone was crisp. ‘I’m not so sure it’s a wise idea to break up the army at the moment.’
Hit Crixus with it now, thought Spartacus savagely. ‘Imagine four and a half thousand legionaries storming the camp. They’ll have catapults and bolt throwers to soften you up beforehand too. Will your men withstand that?’
Crixus’ face twisted with anger. He glanced at Castus, who now looked most unhappy, and then his eyes slid back to Spartacus. ‘I’m not running away!’
‘No one said anything about running away. Look, I know how brave you all are. Unless they’re deaf, dumb and blind, so does every damn man in the camp.’ At this, Gannicus and Castus grinned; Crixus’ mouth was still an unhappy gash, but he didn’t interrupt. Thank the Rider for that much. ‘Remember, I want to defeat Varinius too. Our followers are brave, but they’re slaves, not soldiers. Even the rawest legionary recruit is more than a match for the vast majority of our men. Our successes thus far have been thanks to the element of surprise. Varinius is no fool. He won’t fall into the same traps again. That’s not to say we can’t beat him. But we need more time to train the men. More weapons, or iron for the smiths to work. More food. You’ve seen how little remains in the way of provisions,’ Spartacus warned. ‘If we’re not to be crushed by Varinius, or die of starvation, we need to act.’
Gannicus spoke first. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘We give Varinius the slip. Head south, to where it’s warmer. Locate a secure camp, in a place where we can find enough supplies.’
‘We’ll need wine and women too.’
‘We will,’ agreed Spartacus, knowing that was a reality he had to live with. ‘Let’s spend the winter training and preparing for battle. In the spring, we’ll track down Varinius and his men, and put them to the sword.’ He glanced casually at Gannicus.
‘I’m with you!’
Castus said nothing. He eyed Crixus, who was chewing a fingernail.
‘You’ll give me your word about killing Varinius?’ Crixus rumbled.
‘I will.’
‘Fair enough. I’ll stay until then,’ said Crixus grudgingly.
‘Castus?’ asked Spartacus.
‘Me too. But there’d better be plenty of women.’
Can you do anything but think with your prick? Spartacus wondered. Out loud, he said, ‘I’m sure there will.’
They gripped arms to fasten the deal. In the background, Carbo grinned from ear to ear.
Spartacus allowed himself a brittle smile. He had done better than he’d expected to. The army would remain together for the moment.
Sooner or later, however, a split was inevitable.
That night, in what had become their daily custom, Carbo and Chloris retired to their tent as darkness fell. The urgency of their physical union was still undimmed. Whether Chloris was faking her desire for him, Carbo could not be sure, but he was certainly not acting. He could not get enough of her. Afterwards, they talked for an age. Lying under a thick layer of blankets with her, their limbs entwined, Carbo felt huge relief. Having Chloris around had removed a logjam from the dammed river of his conversation. Since the pox, he had lost all confidence in talking to anyone of the opposite sex. Now, he couldn’t shut up. He wanted Chloris to know everything about him. He’d told her what had happened to his family, and of Crassus’ involvement. How he’d not seen Paccius or his parents for months. Mentioning them again, he glanced into Chloris’ dark eyes, seeing a pain there that he had not previously noticed. Guilt filled him. ‘I’m sorry. At least I have some chance of seeing them again, whereas your father and mother…’
‘Are dead, yes. Nothing can be done about that.’
‘Yet you must wish to return to Greece. To find your younger brother.’
She ignored what he’d said. ‘I like listening to you talk. Your voice is soothing.’ She traced his features with a finger.
Screamingly conscious of the pockmarks pitting his cheeks, he looked away.
‘You’re very handsome,’ she murmured, lifting a hand and turning his face to hers again.
Carbo still couldn’t meet her gaze.
‘I thought that the first time I saw you strip off in the ludus. Good-looking, with a nice body.’ She reached down to his prick and chuckled in her throat. ‘I found that this was the best bit, though.’
Her touch made him stiffen, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘And my scars?’
‘They give you character.’ She laid a blanket of kisses on his cheeks. ‘They’re part of you and you are a good man.’
She was concealing something from him, thought Carbo. He did not know what, however, and as she rolled on top of him, all coherent thought left his head.
Three weeks went by, and Spartacus had put the confrontation with the Gauls from the front of his mind. Instead it lingered in the recesses of his memory like a bad smell over an open sewer. Overall, however, things had gone well. Varinius had been neatly tricked on the night that he and the army had withdrawn from Glaber’s old encampment. Spartacus had insisted on meticulous planning beforehand. Patrols sent out in the late afternoon had scoured the area to make sure that there were no legionaries spying on the camp. Then, under the cover of darkness, their sentries at the front gate had been replaced by corpses dressed in mail and armed with bent or useless swords. By the light of dozens of campfires, every last tent had been taken down and packed, along with other heavy equipment such as Pulcher’s anvils, on to hundreds of mules. In the hour before midnight, every man, woman and child had filed away, eastwards, to the towering Picentini Mountains.
Everyone but Carbo, who was armed with a captured Roman trumpet.
It had been a dangerous duty to volunteer for, but Carbo had been most insistent. Seeing the burning desire in his eyes, Spartacus had acquiesced. The young Roman’s job had been to stay awake all night, listening out for the enemy. At dawn he was to sound his instrument, in mockery of Rome’s customary way of waking its soldiers, and wait to see what happened next.
Spartacus smiled at the memory of Carbo’s report. It had been a real morale booster for everyone to discover that some two hours later, when Varinius had become aware that the rebels’ camp was far quieter than normal, he had not dared to send a patrol to search it. Instead, one of his newly arrived cavalry units had ridden to the top of a nearby hill to look down on it from a height. Disconcerted by the slaves’ disappearance, Varinius had withdrawn his forces to the north-west. Rather than having to creep away from the camp, Carbo had simply trotted after the slave host. Delighted by his report, Spartacus had called for a gathering that night. ‘That’s how respectful the bastards are of us now,’ he had cried to the thousands who had assembled to hear him speak. ‘They are too damn scared even to come after us!’ In the rousing cheer that met his words, he hadn’t been surprised to be challenged by Crixus again.
‘If the shitbags are that frightened, why in hell’s name aren’t we pursuing them?’ he’d growled.
‘Varinius fearing us is a good thing,’ Spartacus had replied robustly. ‘But it does not mean that we would win an open fight with him. In addition to his legionaries, he has four hundred cavalry. We have none. None! Imagine what those horsemen would do if they came hammering in to our rear in the midst of a battle. Have you ever seen a
