menaces, Crixus had not threatened to leave. Yet.
But the cocksucker will. I’d wager my life on it.
What he somehow had to do, thought Spartacus grimly, was bind Castus and Gannicus to him. So that when the split came, they would stay with him.
Carbo was careful to cover up the dead bodies of the girl’s father and brother before she saw them. He was relieved that giving her things to do seemed to take her mind off what had happened. She hurried to and fro, fetching water from the well, tearing strips of cloth into bandages and helping the second woman to a bedroom. The same could not be said of Chloris. She smiled vacantly at Carbo as he carried her into another room but the moment he laid her down on the bed, she began to sob again. ‘It hurts. It hurts so much.’
Carbo glanced down and had to bite back a curse. There were fresh scarlet stains below the waist of her dress. She was still bleeding. Feeling totally helpless, he sat on the edge of the bed, stroking back the strands of hair that had fallen over her face. ‘Hold on. Ariadne will be here soon. She’ll give you something for the pain.’ She’ll know what to do.
Her lips twitched, but instead of a smile, she grimaced.
Aesculapius, please help her, Carbo begged silently. He didn’t normally pray to the god of health, but this was no ordinary occasion.
He tried to get Chloris to drink some wine, but she wouldn’t. Even persuading her to swallow a mouthful of water was an effort. Much of the time, she seemed unaware of his presence. He was grateful, therefore, that when he stopped caressing her head, her eyelids opened. ‘That’s nice. Please continue.’
‘Of course.’ His throat closed with emotion as he obeyed her request. ‘What were you doing here, Chloris?’
Shame crept across her face.
He waited.
‘I was looking for money. We both were.’
‘Why? I’d give you money if you wanted it.’
Silence.
The realisation hit Carbo a moment later, making him feel numb. ‘It was so you could run away, wasn’t it? Chloris?’
Without opening her eyes, she nodded.
‘You could have said,’ he muttered. ‘I’d have just given it to you.’
‘Really? I wanted to return to Greece.’
‘I wouldn’t have stopped you.’
‘I’m sorry. I misjudged you.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Tell me some stories, please. It will help me to forget the pain.’
Swallowing his grief, and his shock at her revelation, Carbo began. Wanting to lift Chloris’ spirits, he related every humorous episode he could think of. How he’d once fallen into a dungheap on the family farm. The time he had raided a beehive for honey and been pursued by the angry bees for a quarter of a mile, to the river. To save himself from being repeatedly, he’d had to drop his stolen prize and jump into the water. He even told her about when he’d been caught by Paccius spying on the female slaves as they dressed in the morning.
She smiled at that. ‘Boys will be boys. It’s not much to be ashamed of, especially after you’ve saved my life.’
‘I didn’t save you,’ he said bitterly. ‘Spartacus did.’
‘What were you going to do — take on three warriors? They’d have chopped you into little pieces. Where would I be if that had happened?’
Carbo didn’t answer. His heart swelled with a mixture of emotions as he stared down at her. Impulsively, he bent forward and planted a soft kiss on her waxen forehead. There was another little smile. He resumed stroking her hair, and studying her face. The face that he’d learned to treasure. He cared for her still, even if she’d wanted to leave him.
Carbo was in the same position when Ariadne arrived. Startled out of his reverie, Carbo stood up. ‘You came.’
‘Of course. As soon as Spartacus found me.’ Ariadne’s gaze moved down, taking in the huge red stain on Chloris’ dress. There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘Gods above. She was raped, I presume?’
‘Yes. By Crixus and two of his men,’ he hissed.
‘The filthy dogs. How long since?’
‘I–I don’t know.’
‘Did she lose much blood at the time?’ Ariadne placed the fingers of one hand on Chloris’ left wrist. Her lips moved silently as she counted the thready pulse.
Catching Ariadne’s tone of urgency, Carbo threw his mind back to the courtyard. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
Frowning, Ariadne began peeling the sodden fabric of Chloris’ dress upwards.
Carbo averted his gaze. His eyes shot back, however, when Ariadne gave a tiny gasp. ‘What is it?’
‘This.’ Ariadne pointed.
Carbo forced himself to look. Between Chloris’ thighs, there was a black-red gelatinous clot. It was as big as his two fists placed together. The bedding underneath her was also saturated in blood. Dread filled him. ‘What does it mean?’
Ariadne’s face was full of sorrow. ‘She’s lost too much blood,’ she murmured. ‘There’s nothing I can do.’
‘She’s going to die?’
‘She is very near death already,’ said Ariadne quietly, pulling down Chloris’ clothing.
Carbo regarded Chloris’ features, which were even paler than before. ‘No,’ he whispered, placing a finger under her nostril. It was several moments before he felt the faintest movement of air. A sick feeling filled his belly and he knew that Ariadne was right. Who could lose that much blood and survive? Waves of bitterness bathed his heart. ‘How can the gods be so cruel?’
‘It is very hard, I know.’
Carbo’s shoulders hunched. ‘How long does she have?’
Ariadne placed her lips against his ear. ‘She’ll probably have slipped away by sunset. I’m sorry.’
Carbo thanked Ariadne, who nodded and withdrew. The instant that he was alone again with Chloris, he was seized by a savage, black despair. During the previous few months, she had become increasingly important to him. In the blink of an eye, all his happiness had been turned to ash. An image of Crixus and his grinning cronies filled Carbo’s mind. He shoved it away. Fuck them. What time I have left with Chloris is too precious.
He began stroking her hair again. Not knowing what else to do, he spoke of their time together, and of the magic that he’d felt being with her. How he would treasure the memories forever. Then he began to speak of Athens, mentioning every little detail that she’d ever told him. The rich, tree-lined quarter, within view of the magnificent Parthenon, where she’d grown up. The noise each dawn of the priests at their prayers. Chloris playing with Alexander, her younger brother. The regular trips she’d made into the city, to help the kitchen slaves buy provisions, and with her mother to visit their relations. Watching the oiled athletes in the nearby gymnasium wrestling, sprinting and throwing the discus.
Carbo talked and talked, filling the air with tender words. Finally, when his throat was so dry that he could no longer continue, he fell silent. He studied Chloris’ face. It had relaxed, and he realised that he hadn’t seen her breathe for a long time. She’s dead, he thought calmly. In a way, he was relieved. At least her end had been peaceful. Carbo gave her a last kiss on the lips, and then, lifting a clean sheet from the floor, he covered her body.
A cold fury consumed him. All he wanted to do now was murder Crixus and Lugurix. It was a Herculean task to set himself. Even if he managed to slay Lugurix, the big Gaulish leader was an entirely different proposition. Carbo knew that, in reality, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He didn’t care. Death was preferable to the pain he was currently in. Of course it wasn’t that simple. Few people would care if Lugurix died but the entire rebellion would be jeopardised if, by some crazy intervention of the gods, he did succeed in killing Crixus. Could he do that to Spartacus?
Carbo wasn’t sure.
Spartacus would have preferred to have slept in their camp, but the still-fluid situation in Forum Annii had persuaded him to spend the night in the town. By being present, he could prevent the worst atrocities from
