Spartacus

by Robert Southworth

  All readily signed up. They were all provided with new clothing and equipment. The Roman legionary regalia was washed away, leaving the citizen beneath. From now on there would be no commanders other than Cassian and Spartacus. They would obey orders the moment they were asked to do so, and failure to do so would mean death with no appeal. This was a fact the ordinary soldiers within the legions were used to, unless you were lucky enough to serve in a legion which was commanded by one of the few officers who knew how to treat men. If you were not so lucky then cruelty and untimely death were commonplace. They were used to risking their lives for someone else's whim. This, at least, offered them the chance to make it worth the gamble. Even the optio seemed at ease at giving up his rank, the chance of real wealth overcoming even his oversized ego.

  The next morning was greeted with great activity. An hour before Cassian had released his decoy. Two wagons, and around twenty slaves had been dressed up to look like an armed guard. However, it was made clear to them if they were to meet with trouble then they were to flee, and not try and rescue the wagons. If captured they knew nothing of importance which could harm the real convoy. A short time later the real convoy set off, after Cassian's spies had observed riders dressed all in black leave and start shadowing the initial convoy.

  ‘It will give us a few hours - half a day at best before they realise what's happened, and with the trail I have picked maybe a good deal longer,’ remarked Cassian.

  ‘Unless they have more lookouts posted along the way,’ replied Spartacus, unsure of the plan.

  ‘Oh they did have, but they only look to the skies now,’ Cassian replied with a grim determination. Spartacus had noticed the difference in the man since the news of his brother. The loss seemed to motivate this man to succeed even more. Such a loss had broken many men but Spartacus was relieved Cassian's judgement had stayed true, and logic was winning where emotions could have triumphed. How, or if, that would change if Cassian were to meet Crassus he did not know, but that was for another time, and for now, as the mission finally lurched into progress, it was clear much blood would be spilled before it reached its end.

  As it was, little happened on that first day. Cassian had decided upon three wagons pulled by huge oxen, with spare oxen trailing behind each wagon. One wagon carried the gold and some supplies, in the second was armour, swords, helmets and all the required items to keep a gladiatorial team at its best through a tournament. The third carried more supplies such as animal feed, which these beasts seemed to consume in massive quantities.

  The night wore on and the convoy rested for the night. Guards were posted and Cassian decided that fires must be lit. To reach the tournament when the men had not had proper nourishment or warmth would see the attempt at winning quickly falter. Cassian gathered the men around after all had eaten their fill.

  ‘It is time for honesty gentlemen. You have sworn to fight on this mission. It is possible some will never return home, so I believe you should know certain facts – the first is that we fight to prevent a man taking control in Rome who would surely bring it to its knees. As such, we have in our midst a man who stood for that very ideal. This man sought the end of Rome and, if truth be known, Rome created the man who would cause them so much trouble. However, this man is to be trusted and obeyed, for the success of this mission will rely upon him.’ Cassian gestured to Spartacus to come close. ‘This man, who you know as Teres, is none other than Spartacus, leader of the slave revolt. I will know whether anyone here has any problems?’ Not a hand was raised or a voice heard, except a little chortle from Bull.

  ‘I knew I recognised your fighting style. I saw you at Capua when you defeated Petrocles, the champion from Pompeii. What a fight, he pushed you that day.’ Spartacus smiled.

  ‘He had seen better days. I was not likely to humiliate him for the baying crowd. At his best though I think the match may have had a different result.’

  ‘I don't think so, he may have been quick and strong but he lacked the moves to unlock your defences.’

  ‘I am grateful for your kind words,’ Spartacus replied.

  Cassian then told the men of what lay ahead, describing the mission in some detail and emphasizing the difficulties which faced each of them. Spartacus was surprised, knowing that if one of these men was a spy for Crassus then they now had the full picture to report on. Cassian seemed to understand what Spartacus was thinking from the look upon his face.

  ‘It is also clear that one or more of you may well be a spy placed within our ranks. Let me make things quite clear, the names of every man on this mission have been placed on a list. That list has been given to the man I serve. That individual has undertaken that if any one man returns from the mission when it has failed then they will suffer death, and I doubt it will be a quick and easy fate. Moreover, if the man runs he will have one of the most powerful men in Rome, with unlimited resources, dedicated to tracking him down. There will be no place in which you could hide. I hope that is clear, the mission is to succeed or die. Glory or death.’

  Despite the magnitude of the mission ahead, the men settled for the night well. A small amount of wine was permitted and tales were told beside the fire. Men shared their past, including Cassian who told of his family's rise to wealth and of his family; a wife and two boys. Aegis, one of Cassian's bodyguards, sang an ancient song which had a haunting melody which lulled the men into tiredness.

  ‘That song, from where does it come?’ Spartacus enquired.

  ‘My homeland is far to the east. It is the song my people sang the night before a battle. It is not a celebration of war but tells of the sadness of losing comrades in a battle that must be fought.’

  As Aegis spoke he seemed to drift to a far off place, a feeling Spartacus knew well. He too often thought back to happier times, where he played as a young boy with his brothers pretending to be great warriors.

  Spartacus thought to himself that if young males only knew what being a warrior entailed they would happily live out their days as farmers, never wishing to pick up a sword. Spartacus was aware that even as a victor in battle you were still the loser. Each defeated foe's face that Spartacus had slain still haunted him. Each terrible final scream that had issued from a dying opponent rang in his ears, a night's sleep was often disturbed by the ghosts of the past coming to visit him. Their unrelenting unhappiness, not at losing their life but at the chance to find a lasting, peaceful happiness which all warriors yearn for. The chance to return to a simpler existence had been taken from them. He doubted whether many warriors ever truly found peace for, even if they survived, the chains of those they had killed still weighed heavily about their necks, securing them to a life of blood and tears, which they only wished against all hope to forget.

  ‘Do you hope to return to your home once the mission is over?’ Enquired Spartacus.

  ‘My home is no more, torn apart by wars that left only destruction. Gone are the chiefs, the soothsayers, the people. Only dust remains and when I die my body will turn to such dust and the winds will blow me to rest with my kin.’ As Aegis spoke the words it was with such gentility, the fight was gone from him. A giant of a man, skilled in war and savagery, but Spartacus knew he had accepted whichever fate the Gods had decided for him and, for now, his soul was at peace. Spartacus envied the man, for he was a mix of hatred for the sins which had been done to him and self loathing for the acts for which he was responsible. Many times he questioned whether he was any better than those who had done him so much harm. He had, for a long time, excused his actions as a result of being enslaved and mistreated by his Roman captors. However, that did not hide the thrill he had experienced within the arena, or the satisfaction at cutting Roman throats when he later met them in battle. Aegis observed him.

  ‘I see the mighty Spartacus has many questions within his soul.’ It was not phrased as a question, but as a statement of truth. Spartacus didn't reply but merely gazed fixedly into Aegis’ eyes and acknowledged his statement with a nod.

 
; ‘It is not always possible to answer the past, merely to learn from it and hope the gods steer us on a better course in the future. It does not help to dwell too long in the past for the future is just a heartbeat away, blink and it has gone.’ He spoke in such a calming way Spartacus felt at ease and able to offer a smile.

  ‘I see that killing is not all you are good at Aegis. Let's make a new future at least between us, let us be friends upon this quest.’ Spartacus spoke heartily.

  ‘I considered us comrades the moment the task began. It would not do to die amongst strangers. At least a little sadness is required whenever a soul passes into the next world,’ replied Aegis.

  Spartacus and Aegis talked into the early hours, discussing the mission and the men, but mostly discussing Cassian and his character and how, even to Aegis, the man was something of an oddity. Aegis had been carrying out duties for Cassian for quite some time and, at first, the young aristocrat had seemed like all Romans – arrogant and dismissive of any other race. But, with time, Aegis had noticed Cassian often went out of his way to better the lives of those who served him, and indeed treated those same people with dignity, at least with as much dignity as there could be between master and slave. However, the questions about Cassian being so different to other Roman nobility were questions to which Aegis had no answers. Spartacus was indeed becoming intrigued by Cassian.

  The following morning dawned like the first, with no sign of an enemy ready to strike. However, as the morning was giving way to the heat of the afternoon, the scouts pointed out a dust trail rising about half a day's march from them. Cassian quickly doubled the amount of scouts, trying to ensure the enemy would not be able to steal past the convoy and lay a trap further up the track. Constant reports came back to Cassian. It seemed the pursuers were approximately twenty in total, not enough for an all out attack. However, about half of their number seemed to be carrying bows which could make things extremely tricky. It was hard to defend against an enemy far beyond reach. As it was, the riders gradually drew closer but made no real effort to come in really close.

  Aegis returned from a patrol with details of what seemed to be the reasons for them holding back. It looked as though the riders had pushed their mounts to breaking point over the past day, trying to find the convoy. It was clear from the condition of the horses that these beasts would be in no condition to fight a skirmish. It would make sense for them to rest now as they now knew exactly where the convoy was located. It would seem the next day would be the last for some of the men on both sides.

  The convoy continued making its slow progress, picking its way slowly through the countryside until the time came to rest both man and beast. The enemy were closely watched and, in turn, they carefully observed the convoy. Spartacus took his turn to view the enemy, eager to see the type of men they faced. He moved in close enough to be able to see the dark riders were in high spirits, supremely confident in their own abilities and it seemed they sensed they would soon be enjoying the wealth of the convoy. There would definitely be no attack that night and why would there be? The wagons slowed progress to a steady crawl and the riders knew their intended prey could not race away from them. They were in no rush, they had the luxury of being able to plan when and where to deliver an attack and the men of the convoy could do nothing about it.

  Spartacus returned to camp, his place watching the riders taken by Bull. Cassian had set his guards well, the camp would be informed well in advance if the riders did decide to attack in the night. The camp personnel were in a relaxed mood knowing their sleep would be guarded and so they dined and told stories just as they had the previous night. There were just a few tell tale signs of nerves as there were occasional glances towards the darkness and the enemy that lay within the creeping shadows.

  Chapter 5

  The morning started calmly enough with Cassian's scouts keeping track with the riders. He had also selected six men to head up the track early. Spartacus asked Cassian why he had sent men away as he thought they would need all the men they could muster to guard the wagons.

  ‘Half a day's ride from here is a bridge and, it has to be said, the quality of the bridge is a little questionable. If the convoy can reach it then it may be possible to bring it down before the riders can cross. If that is possible we will guarantee ourselves at least two days respite from our pursuers.’

  ‘And if we don't reach the bridge?’ Spartacus replied.

  ‘Then trade along this route will have been disrupted for no good reason, but being dead I feel we will have strayed beyond the anger and retribution of the authorities.’ Cassian smiled and continued, ‘come Spartacus, with these wagons we have no hope of outpacing these black riders, we need to slow them down using all of our trickery and I have a few tricks left yet. We have at our command, counting every soul on this convoy, combatant and slave, thirty-three men. Last reports put their number at twenty five. They cannot come straight at us but with those bows they will attempt to thin us out first. We need to prevent them from doing that. I fear that on this day they will have the advantage but, if we survive, this day that advantage may switch.’

  ‘Very well, I think the plan is as good as it's going to get. May I suggest that we protect the oxen as much as possible and, if I were you, I would forget about riding on horseback, the target would be difficult to resist. And maybe you should dress in clothes which don't shout out that you are the leader of the convoy.’

  ‘Is that concern Spartacus?’ Cassian asked, through a cheeky smile.

  ‘It's concern for my family. If you die, they die so, against my better judgement, I will just have to keep you alive.’

  ‘Then for your families’ sake and mine, I hope the reports of your skill have not been exaggerated.’ Cassian slapped Spartacus on the back and continued, ‘come Spartacus, you will have plenty of time to kill me but that's for another day. For now let's concentrate on those who need to enter the afterlife sooner.’ Spartacus nodded and followed Cassian to the head of the column.

  Cassian gave orders, including the oxen being fitted with what looked like huge overcoats and he noticed Spartacus observing.

  ‘My own design – heavy hide. It may slow the beasts down but it may also deflect any stray arrows coming their way, though I doubt a direct shot will be put off.’

  The convoy rumbled down the track and, despite the earliness of the hour, the heat was oppressive. Water was poured onto the beasts to prevent them overheating. The men however cared little for the heat, their eyes glancing around the surrounding countryside trying to catch sight of the mysterious black riders who offered to bring all of them doom. The convoy's scouts had announced the riders had spread out on both sides of the convoy and melted into the bushes, with only occasional sightings being made from that point. Cassian had brought his scouts closer in, they dismounted and took up larger shields for protection.

  Talos, the youngest of the convoy's men brought water to Cassian and Spartacus. He was a bright boy, eager to learn and he had spent much of his free time watching Spartacus train. They drank with enthusiasm and haste. Spartacus bent to place the water ladle back into the bucket but, as he did so, it slipped from his grasp. He made to retrieve it and heard the familiar thwack of an arrow finding its mark. He raised himself, poised, ready to leap into action when required. There in front of him the world stood still. The young man had not screamed when the arrow had hit. The arrow's shaft protruded from what was left of his eye socket. The front of the shaft was nearly a foot in length from the back of his skull. Brain and blood decorated it now. Strangely, it seemed to Spartacus it was the only colour in this scene for the boy was pale ghostly white and already dead.

  Only the Gods knew what force kept the boy on his feet but then, without a whimper, the body slipped to the ground. Yet still the world had not started again, not until a scream shattered the stillness. One of the scout's horses called out its agony, thrashing wildly trying to remove the shaft buried in its flank, its flailing limbs catching a man sq
uarely in the chest, launching him from the track.

  Spartacus observed the mayhem that threatened to overwhelm the convoy. The mission was in danger of ending before it began.

  ‘Get these wagons moving and somebody kill that bastard of a horse! Keep your shields up and stay close to one another and shout out if you see any of the bastards.’

  Spartacus moved from man to man giving clear instructions. More men fell, but the convoy moved ever onwards. Those that were wounded were thrown, without ceremony, onto a wagon. The dead and those who were dying lay where they fell, the carrion would eat well tonight. He called for Aegis to join him. He noticed, as Aegis moved to him, that for a large man he moved like a predatory cat, ready to strike at any moment and the arrows of the enemy seemed always to hit where he had just been or was going to be. Spartacus couldn't decide whether it was a good idea to keep this man close or as far away as possible.

  ‘Hot work my friend,’ Aegis boomed.

  ‘It will get hotter if we don't give those bastards something to think about,’ Spartacus replied, ducking as a shaft hurtled above his head.

  ‘What is it you have in mind?’ He quizzed.

  ‘Well I am afraid you and three others will have to be amongst the dead today.’ Spartacus held up a hand when Aegis went to speak.

  ‘Purely for the onlookers in the trees, you are to wait until the wagons and its enthusiastic followers have passed from vision, then I want you to come up on them from behind.’

  Aegis smiled. ‘I understand.’

  ‘They seem to be working in groups of three or four. May I suggest that the first two groups you kill quietly but the third you make scream and put the fear of the Gods into the rest.’

  ‘Why not kill them all?’

  ‘Because by the time you have worked from group to group this convoy will be fit for nothing. Those riders won't be so trusting of the ground in front of them if they have heard their comrades fall and half their number are dead.’ Spartacus said with a grim determination, knowing that it was a dangerous mission. However, he also knew he was needed here and Aegis seemed the best equipped to get the job done. Aegis nodded in agreement.