‘Some wine?’
‘Yes,’ Atheas growled happily.
Carbo nodded. He was burning to reveal their news, but he had to wait until Spartacus ordered them to speak. He swilled the wine around his mouth, enjoying it despite himself.
‘So it’s true! They’re back,’ cried Gannicus, closing in on the fire. Castus was two steps behind him. Both men’s faces were set with worry. ‘What news?’ He threw the question at Spartacus, not Carbo or Atheas.
‘I don’t know yet,’ came the reply.
‘Eh?’ barked Castus. ‘Why ever not?’
‘Look at them. They’re filthy. Tired. They haven’t eaten for twelve hours or more. I fed them first. Looking after my men comes before anything else.’
Respect and a little awe flared in both Gauls’ eyes. ‘Of course,’ muttered Castus.
Ariadne nearly laughed out loud at the beauty, and simplicity, of it. Spartacus had known all along that the other leaders would hear of the scouts’ return, and come hurrying to hear what they’d seen. No doubt he wanted to know just as much as they did, but waiting was real proof that he was cool under pressure. That he was not frightened of what was to come. She glanced at Carbo, seeing he had come to the same realisation.
Spartacus carefully poured wine for Castus and Gannicus, and refilled Carbo and Atheas’ cups, Ariadne’s and his own. He raised it in the air, and waited until everyone else had done the same. ‘To the victories we have won! To the bonds of comradeship we have forged! To Dionysus and the Great Rider!’
‘Dionysus and the Great Rider!’ They all drank deeply.
‘Now.’ Spartacus fixed Atheas with a gimlet stare. ‘Tell me everything.’
There was a reverent silence as the Scythian began to speak. He threw an occasional glance at Carbo for confirmation, which pleased the young Roman greatly. Despite Atheas’ accented words and poor Latin, he drew a vivid picture of the legions blocking their path. When he was done, he simply folded his hands in his lap and waited for Spartacus to speak.
‘So there can be no doubt,’ said the Thracian, raising an eyebrow at Carbo.
‘No.’
‘What of the other consular army?’ asked Gannicus at once.
Atheas shrugged. ‘We did not see it.’
Maybe it’s already behind us,’ said Castus uneasily, ‘and they’re planning on squeezing us between them.’
‘No. Our mounted scouts are always some twenty miles behind the main force. Taxacis has been busy too. We would have had word by now if we were being followed. Who knows where Gellius is, but he’s not immediately to the south of here.’ Spartacus eyed Carbo again. ‘The legions are how far ahead of us?’
‘It’s as Atheas says. Four or five miles.’
‘We’ll come upon them tomorrow then,’ said Castus with a curse. ‘I knew we wouldn’t reach the Alps!’
‘It was always going to be a long shot for us to do that,’ reproved Spartacus. ‘We’ve done well to get here without having to fight.’ He did not voice the dark joy that had flared within him. All his life, he had dreamed of taking on a consular army. Of avenging his dead brother while teaching Rome a bloody lesson. Now the gods had granted him that opportunity.
‘So near, and yet so far!’ moaned Castus. ‘The damn mountains might as well be a thousand miles away.’
‘Peace,’ said Gannicus. ‘Things aren’t that bad. We have nearly five men for every Roman, and these legions are brand new. They’re untested in battle.’
‘Aye, but our soldiers aren’t Roman citizens, who are weaned on stories of war and conquest. They’re not all wearing a mail coat. Barely half of them have decent swords, and even fewer than that possess a shield.’ There was a discernible note of fear in Castus’ voice. ‘D’you really think they’ll stand against a legionary shield wall?’
‘Of course they will,’ Gannicus grumbled, but he couldn’t hide his uncertainty.
Ariadne wanted to speak, but she held her tongue. This was down to the men. To Spartacus.
Carbo tried to ignore Castus’ unsettling words. Yet the Gaul had a point. He worried that the slaves’ newfound confidence would not be enough. We can’t get away, and we can’t fight them in open battle. He glanced at Atheas, but got no reassurance there. The Scythian’s face was a cold, unreadable mask; Taxacis’ features were a mirror image of this. Carbo wished that he could be so inscrutable.
‘The men might not have the martial background you describe, Castus. They aren’t as well equipped as the Romans either. But what they do have’ — Spartacus looked at each of them in turn — ‘is the burning desire to be free! They won’t suffer the ignominy of being enslaved again. Am I not right?’
‘You are,’ said Gannicus.
‘Yes!’ cried Taxacis.
‘Anything… better than ludus,’ growled Atheas. ‘I… die before go back… that shithole.’
‘I suppose you could be right,’ Castus admitted.
‘That is our secret weapon,’ said Spartacus, feeling encouraged. ‘That is what will win the day for us.’
‘But we can’t take on two legions in open battle. Can we?’ cried Carbo, desperate to believe.
‘No one asked you to speak.’ Spartacus’ tone was stern. Carbo coloured. ‘For myself, I think that we could fight the whoresons face to face. However, I’ve got a far better idea than that.’
‘Tell us,’ urged Gannicus.
‘Do you want to know, Castus?’
‘By Taranis, I do!’
‘While Atheas and Carbo were making their way back, I was checking out the lie of the land around the camp.’ Spartacus winked. ‘It’s a little habit that my father taught me.’
‘What did you find?’ asked Carbo eagerly.
‘A spot where the road narrows as it passes between two sheer rock faces. At the southern end of the defile is a flattish area that is large enough to hold at least ten thousand troops. I’m going to position our best men there. Another fifteen thousand, under Egbeo and Pulcher, will be hidden in a pair of side valleys. When the enemy scouts arrive in the morning, as surely they must, they’ll go haring back to tell Lentulus the good news that their forces “equal” ours. When the Romans return, we’ll let their cavalry and one legion pass through, but then the men who are waiting on the cliff tops will roll down boulders, killing as many of the scumbags as they can. Their main purpose, however, will be to split Lentulus’ forces in two. Once that happens, the remainder of the army and all of our cavalry will fall on the second legion from behind.’ A feral grin creased Spartacus’ face.
‘Where will they hide?’ asked Gannicus.
‘In the broken ground on either side of the road. There are hundreds of places to stay out of sight.’
‘By all the gods, that sounds good!’ bellowed Gannicus. ‘We’ll give those bastards a surprise they’ll never forget.’
Carbo was thrilled. Spartacus always has a plan!
Even Castus looked slightly less dubious.
Ariadne’s smile was bright, but her nerves were in tatters. The trap was decidedly risky. What if the Roman cavalry got wind of the hidden slaves, or spotted those lying in wait above the defile? Even if the ambush worked, the fighting on either side of the blockage would be absolutely savage. Thousands of men would die. She closed her eyes, asking for Dionysus’ protection, and feverishly hoping that her previous transgressions would continue to go unnoticed. Unpunished. Let Spartacus survive at least.
‘Where will you stand?’ enquired Gannicus.
‘I shall lead the men who serve as bait for Lentulus,’ answered Spartacus.
The Gauls looked unsurprised, but a little disappointed.
‘Destroying the second legion is just as important as taking on the first. Would you do me that honour?’
Pride restored, they grinned their acknowledgement.
Spartacus glanced at Carbo. ‘I need a reliable man to take charge of rolling down the rocks.’
Carbo couldn’t hide his disappointment that he hadn’t been selected to fight. ‘If you’re sure…’
‘I am,’ observed Spartacus firmly. ‘It’s critical that the pass is entirely blocked. Think you can do it?’
‘Of course,’ replied Carbo fiercely. ‘I’ll do it if it kills me.’ He felt a tinge of panic. ‘When do you want me to begin the barrage?’
‘As soon as half the Roman force has come through.’
