cavalry charge strike an unprepared enemy?’ Crixus had glowered then, because everyone present had known that only Spartacus had witnessed such a thing. It had shut the Gaul up, though. ‘They smash the formation into smithereens! It’s like watching a gust of wind pick up a pile of leaves and scatter it to the four ends of the earth. The fight would be lost with that one strike.’ No one had argued any further, which had pleased Spartacus. Of course, his approach wouldn’t work forever, but his dire prediction had at least ensured that their forces had moved out of harm’s way. Varinius’ cavalry would be useless on steep mountainsides.
Besides, he’d withdrawn to the safety of Cumae, a city some twenty-five miles from Vesuvius. The rebels had therefore reached the Picentini Mountains without incident, and had made a temporary camp for several nights. Meanwhile, guided by Carbo, five hundred handpicked men under Gannicus had raided the town of Nola. They had returned in triumph to the accolades of their comrades, with enough grain to feed everyone for two weeks, as well as large quantities of warm clothing and footwear and close to a thousand new recruits. An attack on the town of Nuceria had yielded similar returns. Carbo had been elated by their success. It was remarkable, he realised, that his new vocation troubled him less and less. Yet the idea of becoming a lawyer now seemed positively laughable. Life with Spartacus was dangerous, but Carbo had authority, the respect of his comrades and last but not least, he had Chloris.
With enough supplies to last for a month or more, the entire army had headed south. It was guided by slaves who had worked as shepherds locally. These men kept the host at altitude because enduring the harsh weather of autumn was preferable to encountering any Roman troops. Yet, apart from the inhabitants of the small farming settlement of Abella, who had been surprised in their fields, the only company the slaves had had since was that of the creatures that lived in the forested mountains. Eagles and vultures that hung on the air overhead, surveying the long column with lofty disdain. Small birds that chattered angrily from the safety of trees at the invaders of their territory. Wolves that howled their mournful cries at dusk every night, adding to the sense of isolation and freedom. Deer and wild boar that hid from sight, leaving only their trail as evidence of their existence. Bears and lynxes lived here too, but they were only occasionally sighted by the scouts.
Spartacus had counted himself fortunate to see one lynx with his own eyes. It was a magnificent male, which had stood quite still when it had spotted him, regarding him for several moments from its slitted yellow eyes. It was the gently moving tufts on the tops of its ears that had told him it was not a statue, carved by a genius or a god. And then it had vanished, simply melting away into the undergrowth.
That is how we shall be to the Romans, thought Spartacus with some satisfaction. They will never know we’re there, unless we want them to.
Two days before, they had crossed the River Silarus, using a little-known ford instead of the bridge on the Via Annia, the main road south to Rhegium. Since it lay near to the paved way with its heavy traffic, Spartacus had sent the two Scythians ahead to watch it day and night. By the time he arrived, they had been monitoring it for the guts of a week. They had seen neither hide nor hair of an enemy soldier. Spartacus had promptly convened with the other leaders. For once, they had come to a unanimous decision: to travel on the Via Annia. Moving much faster than previously, they had swept through the long, narrow plain that was the Campus Atinas, a fertile upland valley fed by the River Tanager. All travellers on the road and inhabitants of the large latifundia on either side of it had been freed, seized, or killed. No one in Forum Annii, the town they were aiming for, could be aware of their presence.
Until we walk into their houses, empty their storehouses, free their slaves. And kill them.
Spartacus had wanted to leave all this behind when he left the Roman army. But it was not to be. Fate had stepped in when Kotys had played him false, and Phortis had taken him to Italy and the ludus in Capua. Then a god had sent him a dream about a snake. Who was he to ignore such an opportunity when it was placed in his path? And yet — as in life — it was not quite that simple. Innocents always died.
Spartacus glanced around. The tree line to either side of him was packed with hundreds — no, thousands — of spectral figures. Everyone fit to bear arms was here. Even some of the women were to take part. He could sense the slaves’ hunger, could reach out and touch it. The staring faces, the tightly gripped weapons, the fierce whispering reminded him of similar ambushes that he had taken part in, a lifetime ago in Thrace. The men were like starving wolves, about to fall on a flock of unsuspecting sheep in the fold. Except their prey was not animal, but human.
Spartacus stared down bleakly at the empty Via Annia, which was coated by thin tendrils of morning mist. It led through recently ploughed fields for perhaps a quarter of a mile to the jumble of red-tiled roofs that was Forum Annii. He watched the trickles of smoke rising from fires that had been kept in overnight. Listened to the crowing of cocks in petulant rivalry with each other, and the fierce barking of dogs that know they will never have to back up their threats to each other. Not a figure moved in the fields below Spartacus’ position, or on the streets of the town. Not a voice could be heard. It was incredibly tranquil. Peaceful, even beautiful. And so very similar to the village in Thrace that he had once called home.
His jaw clenched. That will soon change.
At dawn, Spartacus had spoken to the other leaders about the need for restraint. The need to limit the amount of rape and killing that would go on once their attack on Forum Annii began. His words had fallen if not on deaf ears, then on ears that would no longer listen.
‘My men have been marching for more than three stinking weeks,’ Crixus had snarled. ‘It’s been cold and damp and miserable. All they’ve had to fill their bellies is porridge and bread that’s been burned over a fire. Now we’ve reached somewhere that is completely undefended. There isn’t a legionary for fifty miles. My lads want meat and wine. They want beds and women to fuck in them. All of those things are lying down there in Forum Annii, and I’m not going to deny them the pleasure of having the lot. No one is.’ A tiny, challenging smile had traced its way across Crixus’ lips.
Castus had whooped with excitement. Even Gannicus had looked pleased at the prospect of uncontrolled pillaging.
I had to bite my tongue, or the army would have split up then and there. Spartacus closed his eyes for a moment. May the gods have mercy on the people down there. Let them die easily.
He knew that his prayer was in vain.
Hell was about to be unleashed on Forum Annii.
Chapter XVII
Waking long before dawn, Carbo had risen from his blankets full of excitement. The raid on Nola had been an unparalleled success, yielding huge amounts of grain and clothing. Nuceria had been similar. No doubt Forum Annii would be the same. Carbo had drunk some water, wolfed down some of yesterday’s bread smeared with honey, and looked to his weapons. By this stage, checking that his sword blade was sharp, his pilum heads securely attached and that the chinstrap of his bronze helmet was in place had become second nature. Navio, whose tent was beside Carbo’s, was doing the same.
Carbo felt the first tickle of unease when he overheard a group of former farm slaves bragging about who would kill the most citizens in Forum Annii. When he’d rebuked them, they had laughed in his face. Carbo had confided in Navio, whose answer had been a simple shrug. ‘Some of that will go on. It always does when a town is sacked. Doesn’t mean you have to be part of it, but there’s nothing to be done about it. These things happen in war.’
War, thought Carbo with a trace of unease. It seemed surreal, but that’s what Spartacus’ uprising felt like now. It’s inevitable that some innocent blood will be shed. He was doubly glad that Chloris was staying behind in the camp.
Carbo would have preferred to go in with Spartacus, but that wasn’t going to happen. During the march south, he and Navio had each been appointed to serve with one of the newly formed cohorts. Naturally enough, Navio was in charge of one, while Carbo served as second-in-command in another. His senior officer was Egbeo, a man who would obey Spartacus’ order not to allow widespread killing.
Naively, Carbo had assumed that the same command would have been given to everyone in the army. The farm slaves’ boasts had made it patently clear that this was not the case, and as he’d moved into place on the tree line above Forum Annii, he had heard plenty of similar threats being made. He struggled to accept the depth of
