Spartacus: Rebellion

by Ben Kane

  ‘I hear what you’re saying, lads.’ The optio was a tall man with jug ears. ‘But Bassus has been around the block more times than you and I can imagine. Focusing the men’s minds on boring duties like keeping their kit sparkling clean helps them not to think about more worrying things.’

  ‘Like Spartacus and his fucking army, you mean,’ said the tesserarius heavily.

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘I hope to Hades that Longinus knows what he’s at,’ muttered the signifer. ‘If he doesn’t, we’re all buggered.’

  Carbo pricked his ears.

  ‘Shut your trap,’ growled the optio. ‘You know we’re not supposed to talk about it.’ He glanced to either side, and Carbo busily filled his cup again. Fortuna, please let me hear something, he prayed.

  To his disappointment, the officers then began talking about the whores on display. Carbo turned his attention to the group of legionaries on his right, but they were arguing furiously about whose turn it was to order the next round. It appeared to be the turn of a slight soldier with mousy brown hair, although he was denying it, meeting his comrades’ protests and insults with a small, amused smile. The men’s racket was so great that Carbo couldn’t hear what anyone else in the vicinity was saying. He wanted to find another spot where he might be more successful in eavesdropping, but he knew that would look odd. He’d chosen his spot and he had to stick to it.

  Catching the eye of a passing serving boy, he ordered more wine and a plate of bread and cheese. The food would line his stomach, and stop him getting too pissed.

  ‘Well, well. If it isn’t our friend from the restaurant!’

  Carbo’s heart sank as he looked up. He managed to pull a grin. ‘You found your way here then?’

  ‘Seems like it,’ said Felix with a belch, throwing himself down beside Carbo.

  ‘Where’s your friend?’

  ‘Gaius? He’s getting the drinks in. It was my job to find a seat. Gods – this place is bloody heaving!’ He leaned towards Carbo, filling the air with wine fumes. ‘Is your mate giving one of the whores a seeing-to?’

  ‘Yes.’ Carbo’s gaze flickered to the stairs, which were empty. Hurry up, Navio!

  ‘Where’d he get the money?’

  Carbo thought frantically. ‘We pooled what we had and drew lots. Navio won. It wasn’t a huge amount, but he managed to talk one of the women around. The man has a golden tongue,’ he lied, cursing silently because he’d just blown any chance of sex, at least while Felix was around. He now had to act as if he had very little money.

  ‘Lucky bastard. I’d love to do the same, but that kind of cash only comes my way on payday. Not that I’m likely to be here the next time that comes around!’ He gave Carbo a knowing grimace. ‘There’s a big fight coming.’

  ‘I know. Here, have some of my wine while you’re waiting.’ He emptied the dregs from a used cup on the table and filled it to the brim.

  ‘I don’t mind if I do.’ Felix took a long swallow and smacked his lips with satisfaction. ‘It’s not bad. Better than the vinegar they were serving in the restaurant, eh?’

  ‘That wouldn’t be hard.’

  ‘Too true! Felix is the name, lad. What’s yours?’

  ‘Carbo.’

  They nodded at each other in a friendly way. This is weird, thought Carbo. I might have to kill this man in the next few days. Or he me.

  ‘You look a likely sort. Why aren’t you in the legions?’

  He shrugged. ‘I come from a farm. Working the land is all I’ve ever known.’

  ‘Farming? You can keep it. Too damn boring if you ask me! There’s far more adventure serving in the army.’ Felix’s face darkened. ‘Until the likes of Spartacus come along of course.’

  ‘Longinus will get the better of him, surely?’

  ‘The proconsul is not a worker of magic! He only has two legions. The Thracian has upwards of fifty thousand men. That’s poor odds by anyone’s standards.’

  Carbo let his face go sour. ‘Is that it then? Longinus will be defeated, as the consuls were?’

  It was as if Felix couldn’t help himself. ‘Despite what I said earlier, Longinus is a crafty old bird. He’s got a plan. One that should catch the son of a whore unawares.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Carbo offhandedly. Inside, his heart had begun to race.

  Felix tapped the side of his nose. ‘It’s on a need-to-know basis.’

  ‘Of course.’ Hiding his fury, he poured more wine.

  ‘You’re a good man, Carbo, like me. To your health, and mine. To the death of Spartacus and every last one of his shitbag followers!’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Carbo muttered.

  Raised voices at the door diverted their attention. A group of legionaries in full battle dress had entered. Directed by an optio, they were splitting into pairs and moving through the room, studying the men at every table.

  Carbo’s stomach did a nauseating somersault. What in the name of Hades do they want?

  ‘It’s the fucking watch,’ growled Felix.

  ‘Why are they here?’

  ‘The usual reason. They’ll be looking for soldiers who are out without a pass.’ He saw Carbo’s blank look and pulled a small wooden tablet from his purse. ‘We all have to have these to leave barracks. If you’re caught without one, it’s ten days in the clink.’

  ‘Ah.’ But Carbo’s disquiet returned the instant he saw a block-headed legionary talking to the colossus at the door. It was the same soldier who had been outside when he’d gone to the forum. This could be no coincidence. Carbo’s eyes slid to the stairs. Still no sign of Navio. Damn it!

  A figure loomed over them.

  ‘Gaius! I thought you’d got lost.’ Felix jerked a thumb at Carbo. ‘This is the lad we met earlier. Carbo’s his name.’

  Gaius let out a suspicious grunt as he took a seat beside Felix.

  ‘Hey, come on. He’s been sharing his wine with me.’

  ‘Hmmm. Where’s his friend?’

  ‘Screwing one of the whores.’

  From the corner of his eye, Carbo could see a pair of legionaries drawing nearer. What made his heart nearly leap out of his chest, however, was the sight of the block-headed soldier weaving his way between the packed tables, studying each man’s face. It would only be moments before he reached them. He’s looking for me. Carbo knew it in his gut. He was about to stand when a full cup of wine was shoved in his face. ‘Get that down your gullet.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Carbo threw it back in one swallow.

  ‘Jupiter’s cock, you’ve got a thirst on you! Sure you don’t want to join the legions? You’d fit right in.’ Grinning, Felix poured him another.

  Again Carbo made to leave, but his plate of bread and cheese arrived. He kept the serving boy as long as he could, fumbling around for the right coins and asking him where the toilets were. It was a waste of effort, because the moment the servant moved on, his place was taken by the block-headed legionary.

  ‘You’re looking in the wrong place, pal,’ said Felix, truculently waving his pass. ‘We’ve all got one of these. Why don’t you piss off back to the guardhouse and leave us in peace?’

  ‘Shut your mouth, soldier.’ The gimlet eyes did not waver from their path along the faces lining the bench.

  Carbo buried his nose in his cup of wine, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t be noticed.

  ‘You. Look at me.’

  Shit.

  ‘I’m talking to you, sewer rat!’

  ‘Back off, you prick,’ said Felix. ‘He’s a civvie.’

  ‘I want a word with him.’

  ‘Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?’ demanded Felix, getting to his feet.

  ‘Keep your damn nose out of this.’

  ‘He’s a friend of mine, cocksucker. Leave him alone.’

  Carbo sensed Felix step forward and shove the block-headed man in the chest. What should he do?

  ‘You stupid bastard! I’ve been watching him all day. He and his mate are loaded down with
gold coins. What are two pieces of shit doing with money like that? This one has also had a scribe write a letter to his parents, telling them he’s going on a long journey.’

  ‘Eh?’ said Felix stupidly, looking down at Carbo, whose throat had closed with fear. The prick must have seen Navio pull out his aureus and then followed me from here. He had no time to think further.

  ‘They’re damn spies. Spartacus’ spies!’

  Carbo leaped up. He dashed the contents of his cup into the block-headed legionary’s face, and followed that by upending the table between them. The cursing soldier went down with crockery clattering all around. Throwing the bewildered Felix an apologetic look, Carbo sprinted towards the stairs. There was no chance of getting out of the front door, and he couldn’t abandon Navio.

  ‘Stop him! He’s a spy!’

  A pair of legionaries moved into his path. Carbo jumped on to the nearest table, scattering cups of wine everywhere. As the men around it bawled in surprise and anger, he bounded on to the one beyond that, and then back to the floor. Four more steps, and he’d be at the foot of the staircase. A hand tugged at the back of his tunic. Carbo drew his dagger, spun and slashed the soldier who had grabbed him across the arm. Blood sprayed into the air and his assailant fell away, screaming.

  Carbo went up the steep flight two steps at a time. He risked a glance at the room below, and his heart raced even faster. Led by the block-headed legionary, more than a dozen soldiers were heading his way. He’d be able to check one room for Navio – no more.

  Carbo shot up the last few stairs like a slingshot. Ahead of him, a corridor led left and right. Which way? Left. He darted into the passage, which was dimly lit by a single hanging oil lamp. Erotic scenes had been painted on the walls, but Carbo paid them no heed. There were doors to both sides, at least four of them. Gods, which should he choose? He could hear studded sandals thundering up after him. He squeezed his eyes shut. Fortuna, help me! The first door Carbo saw when he looked again was the second on the left. He shoulder-charged it, smashing it open with a splintering of wood.

  For once, the goddess of good luck had answered his prayers.

  ‘What the—’ bellowed Navio, whose bare arse was sticking up from between the open legs of the brunette.

  ‘Up! Get up! They know who we are!’

  ‘I—’ Navio’s protest died in his throat as he heard the men on the stairs. He scrambled off the now screaming whore and grabbed his licium.

  Carbo’s gaze shot around the little room and halted on the small window opening. ‘Come on!’ He tore over and threw open the shutters, which cracked off the outside wall. Sticking his head out, he saw a tiled roof – part of the ground floor – a short drop below. He shoved his bloodied dagger back into his sheath. Heaving a leg out into space, Carbo gripped the wooden frame as he pulled his other leg out. Instantly, he dropped to the tiles. He looked up and was relieved to see Navio’s bare legs following him a heartbeat later. With a thud, his friend landed beside him, bollock naked but clutching his undergarment. Carbo stifled his urge to laugh.

  ‘Which way?’

  Angry shouts reached them from the room above.

  Carbo tried to get his bearings. There was more light to his left, which meant it was more likely to be the front of the inn. Not the best route to take. ‘This way!’ Taking as much care as he could on an uneven, angled surface in the pitch black, he worked his way across the tiles. There was a muttered curse behind him as Navio stubbed a toe.

  ‘Where are they?’ shouted a voice. ‘Get a torch!’

  Carbo stumbled and almost fell off the edge of the roof. There was just enough light for him to make out the paved surface of a yard, a cart and a water butt. It’s the inn’s stable yard. Taking a deep breath, he jumped, landing hard on the cobbles below. Half winded, he glanced up, seeing no one. Thank the gods. Navio thumped down beside him.

  ‘What in Hades shall we do?’

  ‘Lose those bastards who are right behind us!’ whispered Carbo. ‘We’re dead meat otherwise.’ Seeing a gap between two of the stable buildings, he tore towards it. He had no idea where it led.

  As it happened, it was the dungheap, which was enclosed on three sides by a wall.

  A series of heavy thuds from the yard announced the legionaries’ arrival.

  There was nothing for it. Trying not to breathe, Carbo began to clamber up the pile of shit. Soon he was ankle-, and then knee-deep in the stinking ordure. Driven by sheer desperation and the panting breaths of Navio behind him, he floundered up until the top of the wall was within reach. Pulling himself atop the bricks, he took a swift look at what was on the other side before letting himself fall. Fortunately, it wasn’t far to the ground of the narrow alleyway.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Here, on the other side,’ answered Carbo. ‘If you want to live, climb!’

  Navio’s head appeared, followed by his torso and a leg. ‘I’m covered in shit.’

  ‘That’s the least of our worries.’ Navio lowered himself and they crouched down for a moment, listening hard. Confused cries from the inn’s yard revealed that their escape route had not immediately been found. It wouldn’t be long, however. As soon as someone brought light, the legionaries would see their trail up the dungheap. They had to move, and fast. The alley they were in was formed by the walls of two large buildings. Blocks of flats or large houses, thought Carbo.

  ‘What the fuck are we going to do?’ asked Navio. ‘They’ll have men on all the streets around the inn. The first one who spots me will know who I am.’

  Carbo caught the edge of desperation in his friend’s voice, and tried not to let it infect him. He trotted down to the strip of light that formed the alleyway’s exit on to the street. Peering to the left and right, he let out a stifled groan. A group of legionaries was already combing the thoroughfare from either end. Every second man held a flaming torch aloft, providing light for their companions to poke their heads into every nook and cranny.

  Navio saw his face. ‘Not good?’

  Carbo explained what he’d seen.

  ‘What have we done to deserve this?’

  ‘We thought with our pricks instead of our heads,’ snapped Carbo.

  ‘You’re right. I’m sorry,’ muttered Navio.

  ‘It’s not just your fault. I went along with you.’

  ‘Hey! Over here! I think they climbed up this way,’ shouted a voice on the other side of the wall.

  ‘Let’s kill the first man over,’ said Carbo. ‘Take his sword, and hopefully get another from the next one. At least we can die like men.’

  Navio nodded in savage agreement.

  They trotted back up the alley.

  What a stupid way to die, thought Carbo.

  Then, to his utter amazement, a door in the wall to his left opened. A boy in a threadbare tunic that was far too big for him emerged, clutching a bucket full of kitchen slops.

  Hope flared in Carbo’s breast. Even as the slave saw them, and opened his mouth to scream, Carbo had placed a hand over his mouth. ‘Don’t make a sound. We’re Spartacus’ men. Legionaries are after us. Can you help?’

  ‘Give me a damn hand up!’ bellowed the voice that Carbo had heard a moment before. ‘Quickly!’

  The boy’s eyes flickered to the wall and back again.

  ‘We’re dead men if you don’t,’ hissed Carbo.

  The boy pulled his hand away. ‘Come inside.’ He melted back into the darkness.

  Carbo didn’t think; he just followed. He felt Navio pushing in after him. The boy brushed past and pulled the door silently to. There was a snick as he slid the bolt home, and then they all stood there in the pitch black, panting. Listening.

  Thud. ‘I’m over.’

  ‘Can you see anything?’ called a second voice.

  ‘There’s no sign of the bastards, no.’ A metallic shhhh as a sword was pulled from its scabbard.

  ‘I’m nearly waist deep in the shit!’

  ‘I don’t care! Get your arse
over here.’

  Muffled curses, and another thud.

  The jingle of mail. The pad of two men moving with great care.

  ‘They’re long gone.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ said the soldier who’d been first over the wall. ‘Here’s a door, look.’

  Carbo’s grip on his dagger tightened.

  ‘Which is locked from the inside,’ said the second legionary acidly. ‘They’ve headed on to the street, no doubt. One of the patrols will pick them up soon enough.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  ‘What are you worried about? They won’t have discovered a thing.’

  ‘All the same, we don’t want Spartacus hearing about our hidden catapults.’

  Carbo froze.

  The soldier’s companion sniggered. ‘He won’t have a clue. The slave scum will march along the road north, cocky as you like, following our decoy force. They’ll get the shock of their lives, though, when they get pulverised by the ballistae.’

  ‘Ha! And even if some of them get away over the Alps, they won’t find much of a welcome should they head for Thrace,’ said the first man with a laugh. ‘Someone told me that Marcus Lucullus has recently smashed the Thracian troops who were fighting with Mithridates. By all accounts, he’s now laying waste to half of that damn area.’

  The legionaries’ voices died away as they walked down the alleyway.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ whispered Carbo.

  ‘Yes. Incredible.’

  They weren’t yet out of danger, but Carbo couldn’t believe the luck that had befallen them.

  Navio chuckled softly.

  ‘What are you laughing at?’

  ‘A few moments ago, I was ploughing the most beautiful whore I’ve ever seen. Now I’m naked, covered in shit and standing in a pitch-black larder, freezing my arse off. But it doesn’t matter, because of what we just heard.’

  Carbo had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing.

  Despite the disquieting news about Thrace, it felt good to be alive.

  Chapter IV

  THE FRIENDS’ LUCK continued to hold. After it was clear that the legionaries had gone for good, the friends had allowed Arnax, the sallow-skinned boy who had saved them, to light an oil lamp. The flickering flame had revealed a dingy room full of brushes, cleaning rags, buckets and a sink full of dirty crockery. It was a perfect hiding place. Few people – even slaves – chose to enter a scullery unless they had to. While Carbo had questioned Arnax, Navio had been able to clean off the worst of the manure and finally don his licium.