The Parthian (40 page)

He fought with skill and speed, using his shield as a weapon as well as his sword, parrying sword strikes and smashing the shield boss into faces and ribs. He moved quickly, light on his feet and swiveling his body expertly to face his multiple attackers. Spartacus also used his enemies, assuming positions where one Roman blocked the attack of another. He split one adversary’s skull with his sword, ducked low and swept his right foot to knock another off his feet. He threw off his helmet and fought bare headed, goading his assailants and deliberately exposing his chest to invite attack. One did so recklessly and died as Spartacus feinted to the man’s right, tripped him and then shattered his spine with a sword strike as he lay face-down on the ground. The men were shouting ‘Spartacus, Spartacus’ as he crouched low and delivered a fatal blow to the groin of the fourth Roman, his high-pitched squeal piercing the morning air. The fifth Roman probably knew he would die, but to his credit he attacked with vigour, but died instantly when Spartacus brushed aside his sword with his shield and then rammed his own blade through the man’s throat and out of the back of his neck. He left the
gladius
in the man’s flesh and walked away, the body momentarily remaining upright before collapsing on the ground. Spartacus stood with arms raised, accepting the rapturous applause given him, before retrieving his sword and helmet from the bloody ground.

I joined him as he wiped the blood from his sword and put it back in its scabbard.

‘I enjoyed that,’ he beamed. ‘It was like being back in the arena.’

‘You liked being in the arena?’ I said with incredulity.

He was shocked. ‘Of course, why not? I was good at it and everyone likes doing something that they are good at.’

Those Romans who had surrendered were quickly herded into the slave pen, while the slaves were let out and informed by Spartacus that they were free. Most just stood around looking confused, but one individual pushed his way to the front of the group and spoke to Spartacus. A thickset man with a chiselled face and narrow black eyes, he had manacles on his feet.

‘Lucius Domitus at your service. I thought I would die in this place but now, thanks to you, it appears that I shall die elsewhere.’

‘You are a Roman?’ asked Spartacus.

‘Ex-centurion of the Thirteenth Legion and for the last six months resident of this shit-hole.’

‘And why are you here?’ retorted Spartacus.

Domitus shrugged. ‘I had a disagreement with a tribune which resulted in him getting a beating and me being sent here.’

‘You were lucky,’ remarked Spartacus.

‘That’s my middle name,’ smiled Domitus. He tugged at his chains. ‘Any chance of getting these off? At least tell me your name.’

‘I am Spartacus, a Thracian,’ the name made no impression on the Roman, ‘and this is Pacorus, a Parthian.’

Domitus regarded me coolly, obviously assuming that my long hair indicated a lack of discipline and fighting ability. He had, however, noticed the effectiveness of our bows. He nodded. ‘Clever trick, that, putting archers up on the rocks.’

Behind us the last of the garrison had been thrown into the slave pen, whose iron gate was shut. The slaves, including Domitus, were being led to the smelting sheds where their fetters were broken on anvils. Spartacus ordered that all the weapons, armour, helmets and shields were to be loaded onto carts to be taken back to camp, while all the chains were likewise to be transported back, there to be forged into weapons. I sent twenty men down the track to fetch the horses, and ordered fifty more to retrieve any usable arrows. The garrison’s rations were distributed among the slaves, who sat on the ground and consumed them with frenzy. Spartacus and I wandered over to the entrance to the mine: two large passageways side-by-side cut into the rock face. Each tunnel was illuminated by means of oil lamps set into small recesses in the rock. Spartacus ordered that Domitus be fetched to us, and moments later he appeared, delighted to be no longer chained.

‘Who’s down there?’ said Spartacus.

‘Fifty guards and a couple of hundred slaves. They rotate us every five days in groups of fifty, which means most of us are underground most of the time.’ He looked at the dead guards strewn about the entrance to the mine. ‘They’ll know what’s happened by now.’

‘Any other ways out of the mine apart from here?’ said Spartacus.

‘No,’ replied Domitus.

Spartacus thought for a moment, pacing up and down and kicking at the ground. At length he spoke to Domitus.

‘I intend to keep the mine working, at least for the time being. You are free to go, but if you help me then you may join us, if you desire so. If you wish to help, then I ask you to go into the mine and tell all those below to come to the surface. Those who guarded you will henceforth mine the ore. What is your answer?’

Domitus rubbed his chin with his right hand and then scratched his filthy tunic. His arms were sinewy and scarred. ‘And if I don’t want to help you?’

‘It’s of no consequence to me,’ replied Spartacus. ‘I will seal the entrances with wood and set light to it.’

‘You’ll kill everyone inside, slaves and Romans.’

‘Like I said,’ remarked Spartacus, ‘it’s of no consequence to me.’

Domitus laughed. ‘I like you, Thracian, and seeing as I am in your debt I will run your errand. Give me a sword and some of your men and I’ll fetch them up.’

Spartacus picked up a
gladius
lying beside a dead Roman and handed it to Domitus, who started to walk down the tunnel. Spartacus ordered a squad of his men to follow him.

‘You trust him?’ I asked.

‘Trust has to be earned, Pacorus. Let’s see if he returns.’

‘He might have been lying about this being the only way in.’

‘Perhaps, but if he betrays us I will still fire the mine.’ He nodded towards the Roman prisoners. ‘What should I do with them if we have to destroy the mine?’

‘Keep them as slaves for the army.’

‘I was thinking more of killing them, but I’ll bear in mind what you suggest.’

As we waited for Domitus and the soldiers to return we walked around the camp, whose storerooms were filled with the tools required to mine silver ore. There were spiked hammers, mauls, chisels, single- and double-pointed picks, mattocks, shovels and rakes. Other sheds were full of baskets and leather bags for carrying ore, plus ropes, ladders, buckets and windlasses for hauling it up pit shafts. One heavily bolted shed contained neatly stacked bars of silver arranged on wooden shelves, each one weighing two or three pounds. There must have been at least fifty of them, all ready to be shipped to the city. Spartacus walked among the slaves as they ate and drank water, telling them who he was and asking them to join us. Most seemed willing to do so, probably out of gratitude and a desire to leave this dismal place. At last Domitus appeared at the mine entrance, followed by a line of Roman soldiers. I quickly formed two lines of archers either side of them and had them place arrows in their bowstrings, lest they had an idea to fight us. But Domitus merely led them out of the mine to a distance of about a hundred feet, stopped and pointed at the ground, whereupon each Roman unbuckled his sword belt and threw it down, followed by his helmet and mail shirt. I stood beside Spartacus as the guards thus disarmed themselves and were then moved to join their comrades in the slave enclosure. Afterwards came the slaves who had been kept down the mines, emaciated, dirty figures squinting as they tried to get accustomed to the daylight. Some were children, who I was informed were used to drag the wooden sleds containing ore along the mine passages. Many collapsed or sat on the ground as soon as they had left the mine, obviously exhausted, frightened and bewildered by the morning’s events.

I rode back to the army with Spartacus and half a dozen others, though most of the cavalry was allocated to escorting the carts loaded with captured supplies and the silver bars. He left all the Thracians behind to guard the Roman prisoners, while Byrd and a group of fifty horsemen accompanied the slaves who followed us on foot, including Domitus, who had told Spartacus he would like to stay with us. When we got back to camp Spartacus told Akmon to send another hundred soldiers to the mine to reinforce the garrison he had left behind. Domitus was astounded by the size of the slave army when he saw its camps that surrounded Thurii, and he was even more impressed when he saw that the soldiers drilled in exactly the same manner as Roman legionaries, were armed and equipped the same and used the same tactics. He asked Spartacus if he could be a centurion in one of the Thracian centuries and was granted his request. Thus did our army gain its first Roman recruit, though he was told in no uncertain terms that thrashing soldiers severely with a vine cane was discouraged in this army. He seemed upset by this, but more than made up for it by his later use of threats, insults and foul language that he hurled at those he was training.

Godarz had the cavalry camp organised and running smoothly and had sent out riders to sweep the land to the south and west for horses. New recruits came to the army on a daily basis, mostly runaway field hands or herdsmen and shepherds, and of those any who could ride were sent to us. As usual, those who were Gauls were immediately recruited by Crixus, whose camp was positioned to the north of Thurii and occupied a vast area of the coastal plain. Castus and his Germans were camped to the south of the city, with the Thracians positioned to the east. Our camp was in the foothills of the mountains, behind the Thracians. Patrols were sent out far to the north and south, as far as the River Siris in Lucania and down to Petelia in Bruttium, groups of horsemen also travelling north and south along the Via Annia, the road that began at Capua and ended at Rhegium in the far south of Italy. Daily we expected reports of Roman soldiers marching south or north to fight us, but our patrols reported an empty country, empty of slaves, empty of civilians and empty of soldiers. It was obvious that the Romans had no legions to send to the relief of Thurii. The city was alone and isolated, and although ships entered and left the harbour with impunity, I wondered how long Spartacus would do nothing with an army at his back and an inviting target before him. Its walls were strong, but was the garrison large enough to defend them in the face of an assault thrown against three sides of the city? Would he launch an attack? It was a month exactly after our arrival in front of Thurii that Spartacus requested me at a council of war, where I had my answer.

Chapter 10

T
he army’s morale soared on hearing the news of the capture of the silver mine, though I did not know why as we took what we wanted from the land anyway and there was no opportunity to spend any of the gold and silver we possessed. I was bemused by the conversations among the soldiery about how wealthy the army was and how they would all go home as rich as lords. Still, anything that raised spirits was to be welcomed, and even Crixus seemed to be in a good mood as the captains of the army gathered in Spartacus’ tent and made themselves comfortable in well-appointed chairs around the large oak table, a ‘gift’ from a local villa. Present were Spartacus, Akmon, Crixus, Dumnorix, now second-in-command of the Gauls, Castus, Cannicus, Godarz and myself. Crixus propped his war axe against his chair’s right arm, as usual drinking wine from a large cup.

‘It appears,’ started Spartacus,’ that we are at this present time rich. We have acquired the wealth of Nola, Forum Annii and Metapontum and now have possession of a silver mine. I have instructed Akmon to build a camp within this one where all the gold and silver will be stored. However, I do not intend to keep it for it will be a burden when we begin our march north in the spring. Therefore, I intend to spend it.’

There was a stunned silence. We all looked at each other in confusion, and for once even Crixus was lost for words. Castus frowned, Akmon was bemused and Godarz sat stroking his chin.

‘Spend it, lord?’ I said.

‘That’s right. Buy something useful with it, things that can help us in our mission to get out of this Roman-infested land.’

‘And where are you going to purchase these items?’ said Crixus, burping loudly as he finished his cup.

‘From Thurii, of course,’ replied Spartacus, straight faced.

‘You’re joking of course,’ said Crixus. ‘You’ve dragged us over here for no other reason than to ridicule us.’

‘Not all at,’ said Spartacus. ‘it makes perfect sense. We will make an offer to the rulers of the city. We will pay handsomely for the things that we require, and in return the city’s merchants will grow fat and we will not burn the place to the ground.’

‘The plan has merits,’ said Godarz.

‘Merits!’ bawled Crixus. ‘It’s madness. They will probably cut the head off the poor bastard who has to deliver your message, like they did at Metapontum, and then I had to attack and exact vengeance. That’s the only language the Romans understand.’

‘They also understand the language of wealth and commerce,’ replied Spartacus, calmly. ‘But I think they will listen to the man I will send to bargain with them.’

‘Bargain? I’ll wager that his head will end up on a spike on the city walls,’ added Crixus. ‘Who is the poor wretch?’

Spartacus looked at me. ‘I intend to send Pacorus to negotiate our terms.’

Crixus clapped his hands in delight. ‘On the other hand, perhaps your plan does have merit.’

All eyes were on me, watching for my reaction. ‘What say you, Pacorus?’ said Spartacus, ‘will you accept this challenge? I do not command, only ask.’

Castus looked alarmed but said nothing, whereas Crixus and Dumnorix looked delighted. Godarz was shaking his head at me and Akmon was admiring the cup he was drinking from and clearly intent on avoiding my stare. I had to accept, of course, for not to do so would be a fatal loss of face. Spartacus knew this, but I don’t think he was putting me in this position out of malice. He knew that he had to keep on winning or he and his army would be destroyed. But he also did not become the commander of this army by not being ruthless. I believed that he both liked and respected me, but by placing me in this position he was also showing that he would stop at nothing to achieve victory.