Peter Darman - The Parthian

‘The shepherds?’

‘Yes. They came through the mountains, you say.’

‘Yes, lord.’

He peered at the map. I looked at Akmon, who shrugged unknowingly.

‘If we could stop one of those armies, then we might stand a chance of defeating the other. We could send some of your cavalry through the mountains to attack the Romans on the Appian Way. Nothing big, maybe a thousand horse, and they would only try to slow the Romans down.’ He was talking more to himself now, speaking aloud his thoughts. ‘They won’t be expecting that. They don’t have any cavalry so they won’t have any patrols out, and in any case their guard will be down because they are on home ground and as far as they know we are bottled up here. So, what do you think?’

‘In theory it sounds as though it might work, though if something goes wrong then we lose half our cavalry,’ said Akmon. ‘Why can’t we hit Crassus before the others arrive?’

‘Because this is a good defensive position,’ replied Spartacus. ‘It can’t be outflanked, we have plenty of water and we can make the enemy fight on a ground of our choosing, not his.’

‘I will lead this raid, lord,’ I said.

‘No, Pacorus,’ said Spartacus, ‘I need you here. Let Nergal lead it. With any luck he will be back within a week.’

I thought of a thousand men and their horses going through the high passes, which may still be full of snowdrifts and lashed by high winds. It was not an inspiring vision. And it might take more than a week.

‘A thousand horse cannot stop thirty thousand troops, lord,’ I remarked.

‘I know that,’ snapped Spartacus. ‘But their task will be to interrupt and disrupt, not defeat.’

‘I doubt they will be able to do even that,’ added Afranius.

He sat with his right leg dangling over the arm of the chair, with a stupid grin across his face, and was displaying that annoying arrogance that had always been his trademark. Ordinarily I would have ignored it, but today was different. Maybe it was because I was annoyed that nearly half my cavalry, which I had recruited, trained and led in battle, was being taken away from me, or more likely was the realisation that the army was living on borrowed time and I would never see my home again. But whatever the reason, I sprang from my chair and lunged at Afranius, knocking him to the ground. I grabbed his tunic with my left hand and hit him hard across the face with the back of my right hand, then clenched my hand into a fist and smashed it into his nose, which began to bleed. I threw him to the floor.

‘I have heard enough of your voice to last a lifetime.’

Enraged, he sprang to his feet and drew his sword, and I retaliated by drawing my spatha and faced him. His eyes burned with rage and his face was contorted in a mask of fury. He stood five inches shorter than me and blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth, but like an angry dog he stood his ground. I welcomed the opportunity to fight him. I found him irritating and my frustration at the position we were in needed an outlet. I smiled at him, willing him to attack. It would be a joy to kill him. No doubt he thought the same about me.

‘Whoever wins this little schoolboy scrap,’ said Spartacus calmly, ‘I will kill. Put down your weapons or you will both die. Decide!’

Afranius still glared at me but did not move. I glanced at Spartacus who stood with his muscled arms crossed in front of his chest. He had a look of contempt on his face. His friendship meant a lot to me; after all, he was the reason I was with this army. But I also remembered that he was also my commander. I replaced my sword in its scabbard. Afranius smiled in triumph.

‘Put it away, Afranius,’ growled Spartacus, ‘otherwise I will cut off your right hand and have it nailed to your head.’

Akmon rose and pushed the point of his dagger into the small of Afranius’ back.

‘You heard your commander, put it away. You don’t want you to cut yourself, boy.’

Afranius sheathed his sword and sat in sullen silence.

‘Idiots,’ said Spartacus. ‘Sixty thousand Romans marching against us and you want to fight each other. Perhaps we could build an amphitheatre and then the Romans could watch you both fight to the death. A matched pair, just like the old days.’

‘They wouldn’t last ten minutes,’ said Akmon.

‘Perhaps even less,’ added Castus.

‘This is what is going to happen,’ continued Spartacus, regaining his seat. ‘Nergal will take a thousand horse through the passes and interrupt the march of the Romans on the Appian Way. We will stay here and fight Crassus lower down the valley when he returns. Once we have destroyed Crassus, we will make a lunge for Rome and win the war. Questions?’

What could anyone say? It was an insane plan born of desperation. But who was I to assume that it would fail? After all, this was Spartacus, the man who for two years had defeated army after army that Rome had sent against him. The more I thought about it, the more I believed that it might just succeed.

‘You really believe that?’ Gafarn offered me plate full of freshly roasted venison, one of the brace of deer that he had killed that afternoon and which was now roasting over a log fire.

‘Why not?’ I replied, biting off a great chunk of meat, whose juices ran down my cheek.

‘You don’t think the Romans might have thought of that, also?’ He sat down next to Diana, handing her a plate of meat.

‘Better to fight one Roman army at a time than both combined.’ I replied.

I had arranged the feast to bid Nergal farewell and god-speed, for he and half the horse would be leaving tomorrow, guided though the mountain passes by Byrd’s scouts. Byrd was present, as were Diana, Gallia, Castus, Nergal himself, Godarz and Praxima. The insane Rubi sat behind Gallia and Diana, eating her meat and occasionally looking up and snarling at one of the menfolk who caught her eye. The evening was cool, still being early spring, and made worse by our location in the uplands, so we sat wrapped in our cloaks around the fire that was cooking our venison.

Byrd jabbed a finger at Gafarn. ‘That one is right, the Romani could attack us here from every direction. My men know of many passes and tracks through these mountains. Fortunately, Romani legions do not know of them.’

I was alarmed. ‘Does Spartacus know this?’

Byrd shrugged. ‘Does not matter, I have posted men all around who will warn us of any attack. Besides, it would take long time for Romani army to move through the mountains. And Romani legion doesn’t like to leave its carts behind. Prefer to use roads.’

‘And what about my horse?’ enquired Nergal.

‘My men show you quick way through mountains, have no fear.’

Praxima, sat next to her love, looked at me. ‘I would go with Nergal tomorrow, lord.’

She certainly did not lack for boldness, nor courage come to that. I nodded.

‘You may accompany him, and take some of your Amazons with you. I’m sure Gallia will not object.’

‘I sanction it willingly,’ she said.

‘Good, that’s settled, then.’

I hoped that they would both return, though if they did not then they would die together. I could grant them that privilege at least.

‘Perhaps we should all go with Nergal over the mountains,’ remarked Castus, his face illuminated by the red glow of the fire. He threw a piece of gristle into the flames.

‘Tired of killing Romans, my friend?’ I asked

‘Tired of living in their backyard, more like. We should get our arses over those hills and then march north as fast as we can.’ He took a large swig of wine. ‘Then we can get over the Alps because it will be summer, and then…’

‘And then?’ I queried.