The Parthian (69 page)

‘Any sign of the enemy?’ I asked their commander.

‘No, lord.’

I dismissed them and carried on with my journey. An hour later I was in the arms of Gallia , brushing away the tears of joy as I told her that I loved her and would never leave her side again. It was so good to see her, as well as Godarz, Gafarn, Nergal, Burebista and Diana, even the wild Rubi gave me a sort of smile. Godarz informed me that we would be moving south into Campania within two days, and Nergal said that he had patrols operating up to fifty miles away from the army.

‘So far, highness, they have not encountered any Romans.’

Later that day I rode with Gallia to see Spartacus, and found him on the training ground practising his swordsmanship. He stopped when he saw me and we embraced.

‘Not tempted to become a Roman, then?’

‘No, lord. But I must speak with you about a matter of some importance.’

We walked back to his tent where we found a blooming Claudia darning one of his tunics. We hugged each other and I told her that pregnancy suited her.

‘And having you back suits Gallia,’ she smiled. ‘Don’t go away again.’

‘No, lady.’

Spartacus told me to wait in his tent and then went to fetch the other members of the war council, leaving me alone with Gallia and Claudia.

‘What did you think of Rome, Pacorus?’ Claudia asked me.

‘It was unlike any city I have ever seen, huge and imposing.’

‘Is Hatra not large?’ said Gallia.

I took her hand. ‘It is, but in truth it could fit inside Rome many times.’

Half an hour later Spartacus returned, along with Akmon, Castus, Cannicus and Afranius. Castus gave me a bear hug.

‘There was a rumour that you had joined the Vestal Virgins, but I said you were too ugly for them.’

‘And certainly not a virgin’ said Akmon, at which Gallia blushed.

When we had all settled into chairs and wetted our lips with wine, I told them of the meeting I had had with Crassus.

‘He is rich, that much is true. His reputation for greed is known throughout Italy,’ said Spartacus. ‘I talked with Godarz while you were away, and he had certainly heard of Marcus Licinius Crassus, of his reputation anyway.’

‘He told me that in addition to the army he was raising, another army was going to land at Brundisium and a third was on its way from Spain.’

Akmon looked at me. ‘Do you think he was trying to awe you with his power?’

‘That was part of it, but he was also sending a message to you, lord.’

Spartacus nodded to himself. ‘That the only outcome of this war would be our slaughter.’

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘Because that’s the only fate for slaves who rebel. Death. And that’s why he would only speak to you. You are a royal prince whereas we are lower than animals. Their pride forbids any Roman to talk to a slave as an equal.’

‘There is one thing more,’ I said.

All eyes were on me. I took another gulp of wine. ‘He offered me safe passage out of Italy, back to Hatra.’ I glanced at Gallia. ‘Along with Gallia.’

Spartacus’ expression did not change. ‘So why are you still here?’

‘Because all of you are my friends and I will not abandon you. And I could not go back to Hatra having abandoned my friends. This I told Crassus.’

‘And your honour forbids you from deserting this army, doesn’t it?’ Akmon’s tone was one of mockery but I also detected a hint of admiration in his voice.

‘That too.’

‘Well, then,’ said Spartacus, ‘it would appear that Hatra will have to do without you awhile yet.’

Chapter 16

C
rassus was as good as his word. It took us three months to reach Rhegium in the toe of Italy, marching down the Via Annia. The journey was straightforward enough, but the army that Crassus had raised in Rome snapped at our heels like a dog and we were forced on a number of occasions to halt and form a battle line. We beat off their probing attacks with ease, but we could not shake them, and Spartacus was unwilling to risk a battle with the threat of other Roman legions coming from Brundisium. He did not realise it, but the movements of Crassus were dictating his strategy.

‘We don’t know if any enemy troops will even land at Brundisium, lord,’ I said.

It was a cloudy day but humid. Spartacus was marching on foot as usual, though he had insisted that Claudia, now she was pregnant, should ride on a cart. A bad-tempered mule pulled the two-wheeled contraption and Spartacus had a firm grip on its bridle.

‘I know that, but if we can stay ahead of Crassus then there is no need to fight him, at least not yet. In any case, I hope to move the army across to Sicily within a month, and then we won’t have to fight anyone. And once in Sicily it will be extremely difficult for the Romans to attack us.’

‘We can’t swim across the Strait of Messina,’ muttered Akmon, whose mood had an uncanny knack of matching the overcast weather.

‘Two miles?’ said Spartacus. ‘I think I could swim that. What about you Pacorus?’

I was shocked. ‘Swim? Across the sea, you are not serious?’

Spartacus smiled. ‘Well, I might make Akmon swim. But the rest of us will be using boats.’

‘Boats?’ Akmon was unconvinced. ‘Where are you going to get boats from?’

‘The Cilician pirates, my friend. They have plenty of boats and we have lots of Roman gold and silver. If we pay them, they will transport us.’

‘They might also betray us,’ I said. ‘We should not put our trust in such people.’

‘Unfortunately,’ replied Spartacus, ‘we don’t have much choice. When the army decided it did not want to leave Italy, Sicily was the only practical option, and to get there we have to get across the Strait of Messina. The pirates are the only ones who have the means to get us there. The alternative is to stay in Italy, and I believe Crassus when he says that the Romans will not tolerate that.’

‘The Cilicians it is, then,’ said Akmon.

The army marched at a slow pace, for it took three hours each day to take down our palisaded camp and another three at the end of the day to put it up again. But with the Romans so close it was unwise to risk camping without defences. So every day over fifty thousand troops, their equipment, the non-combatants and thousands more animals were herded into an area surrounded by a freshly dug earth mounds surmounted by wooden stakes. Even my horsemen were in camp and so we also became expert with the spade and pick.

The geography of Bruttium is mostly mountainous, with lush green forests on the lower slopes. Most of the people lived on or near the rocky coast, and the small villages dotted along the coastline seemed to literally hang from the rock face next the sea. The sea was always a deep blue or turquoise, and the land was often draped in a clammy mist. The forests themselves, vast stretches of oak, ash, maple and chestnut trees, were full of red deer, roe deer, brown bears, wolves and eagles. Eventually we reached the port of Rhegium, a bustling centre of naval activity whose harbour was crammed with vessels of every description. The city itself was situated on the lower slopes of a long, craggy mountain range. The mountains themselves were steep-sided and formed of overlapping terraces. Around the port, along the coastal strip, citrus fruits, vines and olives grew in abundance.

The city’s walls were decayed and neglected, and as we rode through the large though crumbling gatehouse, I could tell that this was a place that had seen better days. Godarz had told me that it had more than once sided with Rome’s enemies and had paid the price when Rome had invariably triumphed. There appeared to be no garrison, or none that would face us, and the forum and basilica were insignificant compared to those in Rome, the basilica being a long, rectangular covered hall with a nave, aisles and an apse at both ends. But the roof was missing many tiles and the plaster on the exterior walls was crumbling. Nevertheless, the port was obviously thriving and as we rode towards the harbour area the traffic on the road increased so much that we were forced to dismount and walk through the throng. There were half a dozen of us: myself, Spartacus, Godarz, Akmon, Nergal and Domitus, and it occurred to me that a few Roman archers could have destroyed the leadership of our army, and probably the whole rebellion, with only a handful of arrows.

We eventually arrived at the docks where Spartacus pointed out a warship with a bronze ram and two banks of oars each side. The vessel was tied to the main quay and was guarded by a group of muscled sailors with skin darkened by the sun and long black hair around their shoulders. They each wore earrings and carried scimitars at their waists. None wore anything on their feet but all had gold rings on their fingers. Their baggy knee-length trousers and dirty vests completed their appearance. They did indeed look like pirates. They lounged around the gangplank that led onto the vessel, though when Spartacus approached them all four barred the way and picked up short spears.

Spartacus halted a few feet from the man who stood in front of the rest, a nasty looking individual with a scar that ran from the right side of his forehead down to his jaw. He had black eyes that narrowed as Spartacus neared him.

‘Greetings, friend. I am looking for a representative of the Cilician pirates.’

Their leader said nothing but stood his ground. I moved my right hand to the hilt of my sword.

‘Who wants to know?’

Spartacus smiled. ‘A man who could make him very rich.’

Their leader shrugged and relaxed his stance. ‘You’re lucky. Our local representative is about to ship out with us in a couple of days. He thinks it will be safer to go back to Crete for a while. Most of the ships you see in the harbour are leaving, too. The Roman boats cleared out days ago, apart from those who are too brave or foolish to do otherwise.’

‘Really?’ said Spartacus. ‘Why is that?’

The leader laughed. ‘Where have you been? Don’t you know that there is a huge slave army on its way? Led by a gladiator called Spartacus, so they say. He’s got the Romans running scared, I can tell you. He’ll squash this place like a fist flattens a fly when he gets here.’

‘So will you take me to see your representative?’

The leader said something to the other men, who put down their spears and began to talk among themselves. ‘Follow me.’

We trailed after him along the quay and into an alleyway beside two huge warehouses, that by the smell of them were used to hold pigs, then along a paved road for two hundred yards, before arriving at the gates of a white-walled villa. Two guards, dressed in similar attire to the sailors we had met earlier, stood sentry at the gates. Our guide waved them aside and we entered the villa’s grounds, which comprised flower beds bisected by a wide curving path that led to the two-story villa itself. Two more guards stood at the entrance to the villa, but they too let us pass when they saw our guide. Inside, slaves were hurrying from room to room, carrying chests, papers and clothes. Our guide told us to wait while he went to find the master of the house.

‘Looks like they are leaving in a hurry,’ I said.

‘Obviously your infamy has preceded you,’ said Akmon to Spartacus.

After a couple of minutes our guide returned with a gaudily dressed man beside him. His skin was dark brown, as were his eyes, and his teeth flashed brilliant white when he saw us. His clothes were a bright ensemble of greens and reds, while on his feet he wore expensive red leather shoes that curled up at the toes. On his head he wore a white turban that had a red ruby sewn into its front. He wore gold on his fingers and I could have sworn that he was also wearing perfume.

‘Welcome, welcome. Salcia has told me that you wish to hire our services.’

The man called Salcia whispered into his ear and the pirate chief bowed his head to Spartacus.

‘My name is Sherash Patelli, representative of the Cilician pirates in the Ionian and Tyrrhenian seas. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?’

Spartacus stood erect and proud, his massive shoulders and chest extended. ‘I am Spartacus, general of the slave army, and these are my lieutenants.’

Patelli blinked and then tried to say something, but though his mouth opened no words came out. Salcia gazed wide-eyes at us, while around us the servants stopped their activity to stare. Where there had been bustle and noise, there was now silence.

‘Perhaps it would be better if we could discuss matters more privately,’ suggested Spartacus.

‘Of course, of course,’ said Patelli, quickly regaining his composure and clapping his hands at his servants. ‘Stop what you are doing and bring us wine and sweet meats to my office. Hurry, hurry!’

His office was a large room that had marble tiles on the floor, a massive wooden desk, richly adorned bronze seats and couches around the walls. Patelli sat behind his expansive desk and invited us to sit. Spartacus did so directly opposite him. The rest of us sat behind Spartacus on the bronze seats that were first put in place by servants.

Patelli had recovered from his shock and now the slippery businessman in him took over. I noticed that he frequently brought his hands together in front of him as he talked, then placed them on the table, before once again bringing them together. A clerk stood on his right side taking notes as the negotiations got under way.

‘Your coming is fortuitous, general,’ said Patelli, ‘for it means that we no longer have to leave. I take it that you do not mean to burn the town.’

‘I have not decided, but when I do you shall be the first to know. Where is the garrison and governor.’

Patelli raised his hands in exclamation. ‘He and his soldiers left yesterday, leaving the town at, er, your mercy. But to business. How may I be of assistance to you?’

‘I intend to move my army to Sicily. For this I will need to hire your ships.’

Patelli nodded gravely. ‘I see. And what sort of figures are we talking about?’

Spartacus turned and looked at Godarz, while behind us a host of slaves came into the room carrying platters filed with sweat meats, pastries, fresh fruit and nuts, while others brought jugs of wine.

Godarz reeled off the figures. ‘Nearly sixty thousand people, four thousand horses and around ten thousand other livestock, plus wagons, carts and supplies for the army.’