Ben Kane - Spartacus - Rebellion

‘What you did was above the call of duty, for which I thank you,’ said Ariadne gently. She glanced at Carbo. ‘Could he be alive?’

His doubts renewed, Carbo thought hard. ‘I doubt it. He wanted to go down fighting. Without a helmet, the Romans wouldn’t have known who he was. They would have just killed him like any other of our soldiers.’

‘But you can’t be sure. You didn’t see him fall.’

Carbo felt even worse. ‘No.’

Navio also looked stricken. ‘I would have continued my search, but there were groups of legionaries spreading out through the area. They were killing anyone still left alive. I had to crawl on my belly for an age to make sure that they hadn’t seen me.’

Guilt redoubled in Carbo, clawing at his mind and heart. He couldn’t be alive. Could he? ‘We could go down and try to find him.’

Great Dionysus, please, thought Ariadne. My pain is bad enough. I don’t need this uncertainty. She knew how awful the scene would be by now. The stench of rotting flesh, appreciable long before the battlefield itself. Bodies bloating, discolouring in the warm sun. Maggots crawling in wounds, mouths, open bellies. Peasants scouring the site for valuables. Carrion birds hanging overheard in clouds, and gorging on the expanse of flesh below. At night, wolves and even bears might lurk at the fringes, keen not to miss out on the unparalleled feast. Revulsion filled her. If he was dead, Spartacus’ body would be prey as much as anyone else’s. If he was injured and unable to move, however ‘It’s far too dangerous,’ said Navio. ‘Crassus has left most of his army in place. From what I could see, they’re patrolling the whole area.’

Ariadne closed her eyes. Was it worth risking Maron’s safety by returning to the battlefield? What real chance was there that Spartacus had survived?

Navio’s next words struck like a lightning bolt. ‘They’ve taken about six thousand prisoners.’

‘That many?’ cried Carbo, staring at Navio in horror.

‘Apparently so. I heard some patrolling legionaries talking when I was hiding among the bodies. On Crassus’ orders, they are to be marched to Capua and crucified on the Via Appia, all the way to Rome.’

In that instant, every terrible detail of Ariadne’s dream came back to her. It was true. Dionysus must have sent it. Thank the god she had never mentioned it to a soul.

That there would be crucifixions was unsurprising — it was a common enough fate for slaves who had committed a serious crime — but the sheer number was almost beyond belief. ‘We have to act,’ said Carbo.

Navio’s eyebrows rose. ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘I don’t know!’ Carbo shot back. ‘But imagine if Spartacus was on a cross? Or Egbeo? Taxacis?’

‘We can’t kill six thousand men.’ Navio’s tone was sympathetic.

‘I won’t do nothing!’ cried Carbo.

In unison, they looked to Ariadne. ‘You want my approval to go?’ she asked.

‘I don’t want to leave you and Maron,’ said Carbo.

‘You won’t be.’

Her meaning crashed down on Carbo. ‘You’re not coming with us!’

‘Try and stop me. There might only be a tiny chance that Spartacus has survived, but that’s enough for me.’ Ariadne’s concerns about her dream had changed. What if Egbeo had been trying to reveal that her husband was nearby? ‘At the very least, I have to see the crosses for myself.’

‘All of them?’ asked Navio in disbelief.

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘This is insane,’ muttered Carbo, but part of him felt the same way.

‘It’s more than a hundred and twenty miles from Capua to Rome. There will be regular pickets of soldiers. They might even be stationed on the road to make sure that no one interferes with the victims.’

‘If there was the tiniest possibility that your father or brother were down there, what would you do?’ she snapped.

Navio’s mouth worked, and he looked at Carbo.

‘If we do this, Ariadne,’ said Carbo, ‘it’s going to be done our way. You, Maron and me and Navio will go. No one else. It’s too dangerous. Atheas would attract attention, and so would a group of male slaves wandering the roads this soon after the battle. You’ll have to leave your snake as well. Being Romans of a certain class, Navio and I will get by any roadblock. You’ll just be a slave belonging to one of us. No one will care about the baby.’ He glared at Ariadne, expecting her to argue, but she nodded meekly.

‘We leave at once. It’s seventy-five miles to Capua from the River Silarus, and Crassus has a head start on us of at least a day.’

The Via Appia, between Capua and Rome

Crassus had been in a jubilant mood for a number of days — ever since the battle in fact. He smiled broadly as the first nails were hammered in and the screaming began. This is what victory tastes like, he thought, nodding and waving to the crowd. He was sitting on his horse not far from Capua’s walls, supervising a group of his soldiers as the process of crucifying the captured slaves began. Hundreds of the city’s inhabitants had gathered to watch; in the moments prior, he had bade them welcome and ordered fistfuls of coins and loaves of bread thrown to them. They had cheered him then until their throats were hoarse. Now they jeered and hurled insults as the first victim was fixed to the crossbar and hauled on to the upright portion of his cross. Soon Caepio indicated that the procedure was complete.

‘Such a fate awaits every enemy of Rome,’ declared Crassus.

More cries of approval.

‘This miserable specimen is but one of the six thousand pieces of shit who will end their days in agony. They will die thirsty, sunburned and covered in their own filth, all the way from here to Rome. Every slave who sees them will put any thought of treachery from his mind.’ Crassus paused, enjoying the acclaim that washed over him. ‘Some of you may have heard that thousands of the slaves escaped. That they fled into the mountains, and to the north. Rest assured that the rats will have no bolthole to call safe. As I speak, no fewer than six of my legions are scouring the lands to the east and south of here. Any slaves found without an owner to speak for them will be killed on sight.’ Another rousing cheer. He was grateful that no one asked where Spartacus was. He’d been spotted near Crassus’ position for much of the battle, but no one could remember seeing him after the slaves had broken. He had ordered his soldiers to look for the Thracian among the fallen, but searching for one man amidst ten thousand corpses was no easy feat. Given the Thracian’s predilection for leading from the front, it seemed unlikely that he had survived. However, despite his best efforts, Crassus had no proof. This irked him immensely.

‘The rabble that went north will get soon a nasty surprise. Pompey and his soldiers have reached Italy, and no doubt they will give the scum short shrift.’ He was pleased that the crowd’s response was a trace more muted than it had been for his announcements.

In his benevolence, Crassus even wished Pompey well with his tiny ‘mission’. What would be remembered was his glorious effort in crushing Spartacus’ main army, not the pathetic part played by his rival in mopping up a fraction of those who had survived. Lucullus’ legions would have nothing to do at all. It was unfortunate that Pompey was closer to Rome than he was. He longed to ride to the capital at once, to ensure that his side of the story was heard first. Crassus could almost hear the adulation of the city’s population and the fawning thanks of the senators. But his triumphal arrival would have to wait. Despite his claims that the rebellion was over, there was still some fighting going on. Some of the slaves had not given up. The back of their resistance had to be broken before he could entirely relax.