Spartacus: The Gladiator (42 page)

Carbo smiled confidently. Falsely. He had no doubt that if Spartacus was unhappy with what he had done, they’d both be on crosses by the day’s end.
Let’s hope he sees the same thing in Navio that I did
.

Chapter XIV

HALF TURNING SO the senators opposite would not notice, Crassus tugged at his toga, ensuring that it hung over his bent left arm just so. When the time came to speak, he had to look the part, and in the Senate having one’s toga correctly in place was imperative. Here everyone had to be the embodiment of Roman
virtus
. Crassus was sitting with six hundred-odd other senators in the Curia, the hallowed oblong building that had housed the Republic’s government for half a millennium. Perhaps sixty paces wide by four score long, it was simply built of brick-faced concrete with a stucco frontage. High on the walls, glass windows – a rare commodity – let in plenty of light. A triangular façade over the entrance featured a centrepiece of skilfully painted carvings of the triad of Jupiter, Minerva and Juno. On either side were depictions of Romulus and Remus, Rome’s founders, and Mars, the god of war.

Inside, the Curia’s sole furnishings were the three low marble benches that ran the length of the room on each side, and the two rosewood chairs that sat on a low dais at the end. There, protected by their lictores, sat the two consuls – the men elected to rule Rome every twelve months. Crassus studied Marcus Terentius Varro and Gaius Cassius Longinus sidelong. Despite the grandeur of their positions, it was hard not to regard them with contempt. Both were ‘yes’ men, figures who were easy to manipulate and who had been chosen by a more powerful politician. Pompey Magnus had put Varro forward and Marcus Tullius Cicero was Longinus’ main backer. Crassus’ lips twitched.
It could just as easily have been me. And to be fair, the pair are only a sign of the times
.

The Republic was a weakened beast now compared to its heyday centuries before. The ancient law that no man should hold the consulship more than once in ten years had been discarded by leaders such as Marius, Cinna and Sulla. It wasn’t about to return any time soon. The wishes that Sulla had expressed when he’d relinquished power had been utterly ignored. His plan would never have worked anyway, thought Crassus. Not when senatorial juries are so often guilty of flagrant corruption. Not when upstarts like Pompey refuse to disband their armies, and use them to browbeat the Senate. Rome needs men like me, who are strong enough to stand up to fraudsters and bullies.

The hammering of fasces on the mosaic floor ended the host of muted conversations and attracted Crassus’ attention.
So to the matter in hand. Spartacus and his band of cutthroats, and the praetors who are being sent to annihilate them. In the process they will erase from the record books the humiliation suffered by Glaber
. Of course, the fool Glaber was long dead, ordered to fall on his sword in penance for his abject failure. His property had been seized by the state and his family exiled. The senior officers who had served under him had been demoted to the ranks. But that did not mean that the matter could be forgotten. Far from it.

‘Silence!’ thundered the senior lictor, an imposing figure with a dozen
phalerae
decorating his chest. ‘All stand for the consul of the day, Marcus Terentius Varro.’

Six hundred senators rose to their feet.

Varro, a squat individual with an unfashionable square beard, nodded at Longinus, his co-consul, before glancing down the room at the massed ranks of senators. ‘Honourable friends, you all know why we are here today. I do not need to remind you of the disgraceful events at Vesuvius some months ago. They have been discussed in detail, and those responsible have been punished.’

An angry rumble of agreement rose to the vaulted ceiling.

‘Two of the Senate’s most worthy praetors have been appointed to wipe the renegade Spartacus and his followers from the face of the earth. Publius Varinius is to command the mission. He will be ably assisted by his colleague Lucius Cossinius, and the legate Lucius Furius.’ Varro paused long enough for the senators to nod approvingly at the three men in full uniform who stood together near the consuls’ chairs. ‘Sacrifices have been made, and the omens declared favourable. The force is to set out tomorrow. Varinius will take with him six thousand legionaries—’

‘Veterans?’ interjected Crassus.

As Varro’s eyes bulged with surprise, shocked whispers rippled through the senators.

To Hades with etiquette, thought Crassus impatiently. Everyone knows the answer, but the question needs to be asked. To be placed on the record. ‘Are they veterans, consul?’ he repeated.

‘N-no. I don’t know what that has to do with it, praetor,’ replied Varro in an irritated tone. ‘Even the newest recruit to the legions is worth ten escaped gladiators.’

‘Damn right!’ shouted a voice.

‘The lowlifes will shit themselves when they see our soldiers coming,’ cried another.

Varro looked pleased. ‘Just so.’

‘According to those figures, Spartacus must have attacked Glaber’s camp with, let me see, thirty thousand men,’ said Crassus loudly.

An awkward silence fell.

‘Yet we are told that he had not six legions of followers, but a paltry one hundred.’

‘Come now, Crassus,’ said Varro, boldly trying to take control. ‘Glaber was attacked in a cowardly manner, in the middle of the night. That won’t happen again, you can be sure of it.’ He eyed Varinius, who nodded his head vigorously. ‘This time, we are sending six thousand men. What slave rabble will stand against more than a legion, eh? It will be a massacre!’

Spontaneous cheering broke out among the senators, and Varro’s face relaxed.

Crassus waited carefully until the noise had died down. ‘What you say is in all likelihood correct. Let me be clear: I am not doubting the quality of the soldiers who are to be sent to Vesuvius, nor the skill of Varinius and his colleagues.’

‘What in Jupiter’s name are you getting at then?’ demanded Varro.

‘All I am saying is that this Spartacus is not a mindless slave, with no idea how to fight. He should not be underestimated. I have seen him in action.’

A shocked silence fell.

‘Where?’ demanded Varro.

‘At the ludus in Capua. I paid for a mortal bout there. Spartacus was one of the two men selected by the lanista. He won, obviously. I spoke with him afterwards. The man’s a savage, but he’s intelligent.’

‘Thank you for your advice,’ snapped Varro. ‘But Publius Varinius is no callow youth. He is more than capable of dealing with a rogue gladiator. His task is simple, and straightforward. I imagine that we’ll see him back here within the month, his mission successfully completed.’

Varinius winked at his colleagues, who grinned like happy children. Lucius Cossinius, a broad-shouldered man, puffed out his chest. ‘If I get the chance, I’ll fight and kill Spartacus myself.’

Laughter and roars of approval met this comment.

‘I look forward to hearing all about it,’ said Crassus, stepping back into the crowd. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he added.

Cossinius chuckled.

Cocksure fool, Crassus thought. You’d best hope that your men cut Spartacus down, because you wouldn’t have a hope against him.

Carbo was glad not to encounter any rebel patrols until they’d reached Vesuvius and begun making their way through the fields of wheat stubble that covered its lower slopes. When they finally did run into a section of ten men, Carbo was recognised. The patrol leader accepted his word that Navio was another slave who’d come to join Spartacus, and they continued their climb to the crater.

‘Now do you see why I made you take off your belt?’

‘Otherwise they’d have known me for a soldier.’

‘Precisely. And you’d already be food for those.’ Carbo pointed at a pair of vultures that were circling overhead.

‘Fair enough. It would be stupid to be killed before I’ve even had a chance to plead my case,’ admitted Navio. He squinted at the peak above them. ‘It’s a good place to choose for a camp. Hard to approach. Easy to defend.’

‘We can’t stay there forever, though. The next commander to arrive will be wise to the trick we played on Glaber. He’d just starve us out.’

‘Where’s Spartacus going to go next?’

‘South, I’d say. Away from Rome.’

‘That makes sense. Has he mentioned Sicily?’

‘What, because of the slave uprisings there?’ He hadn’t thought of Sicily before, but then he wasn’t a soldier, like Navio.

‘Yes. I’d say that two large-scale rebellions within thirty years of each other makes for fertile recruiting ground, wouldn’t you?’

Carbo flushed. ‘Where would we get the ships to transport thousands of men?’

‘The Cilician pirates sail in these waters. I’m sure some of their captains would be open to offers.’

‘Pirates would sell their own mothers into whoredom if they fetched a good enough price.’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers. There won’t be too many other candidates willing to carry a slave army.’

Annoyed and impressed at the same time, Carbo did not reply. They were nearing the crater, and his nerves began to jangle.
Stop it! Navio would be an asset to any leader
.

They found Spartacus drilling a large group of slaves. He had them in pairs, armed with
scuta
and swords, sparring against each other, and was stalking among them, barking orders and reprimands in equal measure. Atheas and Taxacis lounged nearby, in the shade of a tree. They eyed Navio with naked suspicion. Seeing this, Carbo’s skin snaked with dread. He stopped in his tracks.

Navio shot him a concerned look.

Carbo rallied his courage. ‘Spartacus!’

Spartacus turned. His eyes flickered to Navio, and returned to Carbo. ‘You’re back.’ Pausing to correct the way a dark-skinned slave held his shield, he strolled over. Like shadows, so too did the Scythians. ‘What news?’ he demanded.

‘There’s not a word of any troops in Neapolis.’

‘That’s to be expected, I suppose. They probably don’t see the need to come from more than one direction.’ Spartacus saw Carbo’s surprise. ‘You weren’t the first to return. Aventianus got back last night. Apparently, there’s a large force about to set out from Rome. Two praetors, a legate and six thousand legionaries. The praetor in charge is called Publius Varinius. They’ll be here in less than a week.’

‘Shit.’
What use is Navio now?

‘You could say that.’ Spartacus smiled, but his eyes were like two chips of flint. He jerked his head at Navio. ‘Is this someone you picked up on the way back?’

‘I thought he’d be useful to us.’

‘Of course he will. Every sword will count – even if the men using them are more used to handling a hoe or a spade.’ Spartacus studied Navio. His gaze lingered on his hair, and Carbo’s worries increased tenfold. ‘Ever held a gladius in your hand?’ demanded Spartacus.

‘Plenty of times,’ answered Navio stolidly.

‘Really?’ Spartacus glanced at the Scythians.

Without a word, Atheas and Taxacis glided to stand on either side of him.

Spartacus’ stare returned to Carbo. ‘Care to explain?’

Carbo could think of nothing to say apart from the simple truth. ‘He’s a Roman soldier.’

He didn’t have time to add that Navio wanted to join them. Atheas and Taxacis leaped forward in unison, drawing their swords as they moved. A heartbeat later, Navio had a blade pricking the skin on each side of his neck. He was careful not to move a muscle, but his eyes flickered to Carbo’s. ‘Tell my story!’

The Scythians looked at Spartacus. ‘Kill him?’ asked Atheas hopefully.

‘In a moment,’ said Spartacus. His face grew fiercer than Carbo had ever seen. ‘You’ll be joining this prick in Hades, Carbo, unless you can persuade me otherwise. I don’t take kindly to Roman soldiers strolling into my camp, especially when they’ve been invited by one of my own men.’

‘It’s not how it seems,’ said Carbo desperately. ‘Navio’s no friend to the Senate! He’s been fighting Rome for years. He was one of Sertorius’ men.’

‘Sertorius?’