at the Gaul again. Crixus was stalking towards him, stiff-legged. Castus and Gannicus shuffled backwards, out of the way. Spartacus tensed, and let his fingers trail across the hilt of his sica. So it comes to this again. Great Rider, stay with me now, as you always have.
‘I’m sick of this shit. I ought to stop pissing about and kill you now,’ snarled Crixus. ‘That would sort the argument once and for all.’
‘CRIX-US! CRIX-US!’ shouted his men.
‘You tried to beat me once before, and failed. If you want to try again, go ahead,’ challenged Spartacus, raising his voice so all could hear. ‘Your last memory of this world will be of my blade opening your throat, and sending you to Hades.’
‘I don’t think so,’ hissed Crixus. The knuckles of his right hand went white on the handle of his gladius.
‘No? Come on, then.’ Spartacus dropped into a fighting crouch. This was going to be a tricky fight. The top of the ramparts was only six paces wide. One false step for either of them and they’d end their lives by having their brains dashed out on the cobbles far below. He was grateful for the small advantage of having his right arm against the wall. With each blow, he had the chance of throwing Crixus off balance, and over the edge.
‘You dare to speak of the gods, Crixus, yet you have not been chosen by one!’ Ariadne’s tone was commanding. She’d been at the foot of the steps from the beginning, waiting for an opportune moment to appear and speak in Spartacus’ favour. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind. Her heart was thumping off her ribs with fear. Dionysus, do not let them start fighting. Please!
Spartacus stared in astonishment as Ariadne glided past to stand between him and Crixus, who had been shocked into momentary silence. Castus, Gannicus and Carbo were little different. Grim delight pulsed through Spartacus at the sight of her.
Ariadne looked magnificent. She was clad in her finest dress; her black hair was held up by a filigree of gold decorated with pieces of blue glass, and around her right arm she carried her snake. The sight of it had already caused superstitious muttering to break out below them.
‘I-’ Crixus began, but Ariadne cut him off.
‘I am a priestess of Dionysus. You — you are nothing!’
Crixus glared, and took a step towards her.
‘Beware Dionysus’ serpent! One bite, and you’ll die in screaming agony.’ She brandished the creature at him and the Gaul fell back.
Spartacus rejoiced inside. So did Carbo. Crixus looked like a chastised boy.
Ariadne moved forward to the edge of the rampart, and raised her arm so that the snake was visible to all. ‘This serpent is the proof that I have been anointed by the god.’
‘Dionysus! Dionysus! Dionysus!’
Ariadne smiled. ‘He thanks you for your devotion.’
‘What would Dionysus have us do?’ echoed a voice from the ranks.
‘Tell us!’ demanded another.
‘I had a dream last night,’ said Ariadne.
Men shouted for quiet, and a hush fell over the army. Spartacus kept a wary eye on Crixus, but the Gaul no longer looked as if he wanted to fight.
‘Dionysus wants you all to be free! Truly free! Crossing the Alps is not something to be afraid of. As many of you know, the god was born in a range of mountains far to the east. He will watch over us as we journey out of Italy, to lands that are unconquered by Rome. This I have seen. This I have been told!’ cried Ariadne. She held up her arm, and the snake partially uncoiled itself, lifting its head to stare disdainfully at the slaves.
A loud, reverential Ahhhhh rippled through the throng.
Carbo was also trembling with awe.
Ariadne gave Spartacus a look and he moved to stand beside her. ‘Remember the vision that Spartacus had of the snake?’
There was an almighty roar of ‘YES!’
‘He too has been marked by Dionysus. He too is a chosen one.’
‘SPAR-TA-CUS!’ boomed the slaves once more.
She took a step back, allowing Spartacus to assume centre stage.
He cupped a hand around his lips, and the slaves fell quiet again. ‘Who will follow me north, to freedom?’
‘I will!’ roared Pulcher.
‘And I!’ cried Carbo passionately. His doubts had vanished. After all, their future had just been determined by a god.
The air filled with the noise of those shouting their allegiance to him, and Spartacus’ spirits soared. The great majority of men he could see were now roaring in support of his plan. He gave Ariadne a grateful look before glancing at the others. ‘Well?’
‘You’ve led us well so far,’ said Gannicus. ‘I reckon I’ll stick with you on this one.’
Spartacus nodded his thanks. ‘Castus?’
‘You’ve got a point about the Romans not leaving us be.’ There was an eloquent shrug. ‘Why not leave Italy? I’ve always wondered what Gaul looked like.’
‘Excellent,’ said Spartacus fiercely. He glared at Crixus. ‘And you?’
‘I’m going nowhere with you,’ growled the big Gaul. ‘Thousands of men will be happy to follow where I lead too. You know that.’
Spartacus’ tension eased as Crixus spoke. At last there was no need to try and keep him on board. Their fight wasn’t going to happen either. Why not acknowledge him? ‘It’s natural that they would. For all that we do not see eye to eye, you are a great warrior.’ He glanced at Carbo then, and gave him a tiny nod. He’s all yours, the gesture said.
Carbo’s muscles froze. This close to Crixus, the man’s strength and power were all too obvious. If he attacked the Gaul, he’d be committing suicide. Is that what I want? Is that what Chloris would have wanted? No, his heart answered. She’d have wanted me to live. I want to live.
Spartacus saw his indecision. I gave him his chance. ‘May the gods make your road easy,’ he said to Crixus, ‘and grant you victory over every Roman army in your path.’
Crixus’ eyes widened with surprise. A half-smile tugged its way on to his face. ‘Fuck me, I never thought I’d say something like this, but may they grant the same to you.’
May they indeed, prayed Ariadne, trying to ignore the worry in the pit of her stomach. She’d seen no bad omens, but none of the details of her ‘dream’ were true. She had made it all up for Spartacus, to prevent a fight with Crixus, and to help win the slaves over. Forgive me, Dionysus. I meant no disrespect. You have no more loyal devotee than I.
As Spartacus and Crixus nodded grimly at each other, she redoubled her prayers.
Only time would tell, however, if the god had been angered by her fabrication.
Crassus was eating a breakfast of bread and olives when Saenius came sloping into the courtyard. Wiping his lips fastidiously, Crassus waited for the other to approach his table. ‘What is it?’
‘Publius Varinius is here.’
Before he has even explained himself to the Senate? This I had not expected. Crassus hid his surprise by dabbing at his mouth again. ‘What does he want?’ he asked offhandedly.
Seeing through his master’s charade, Saenius chuckled. ‘He’s here to see if you can save him!’
‘The man needs help, all right.’ News of the disaster that had overcome Varinius’ troops had taken barely three days to reach the capital. Varinius now follows in its wake — like a lost dog finds its way home, expecting a beating.
‘Shall I send him away?’
‘No. I want to hear what happened from his own lips.’
Saenius hurried off. He soon returned with a sheepish-looking Varinius in tow. ‘The praetor Publius Varinius,’ he announced.
Crassus waited for several moments before even acknowledging Varinius’ presence. When he did, it was with frosty surprise. ‘Ah, praetor. You have returned to us.’
‘Yes.’
