Spartacus

by Robert Southworth

  ‘I need to do something, keep an eye on the men for me. You take charge.’

  ‘What… where are you going?’ Spartacus exclaimed, ‘you can't go off on your own,’ he added.

  ‘Don't worry, I won't be long,’ Cassian added, and was already moving away.

  ‘Bloody idiot,’ Spartacus murmured to himself. ‘One mission and he thinks he's bloody invincible.’

  Cassian had made a promise to the slave girl and he intended to go and fetch her. It was still early and, after the beating Apelios had given her, he was not surprised that she had slept through the arrival of the wagons. He reached the doorway of the household and drew his sword. It was still possible enemies lay within and he did not want to be taken by surprise, and a gleaming sword always made would be attackers think twice.

  He moved from room to room, the building had been picked clean, as if beasts had descended on its carcass, ripping the flesh from its bones. He did not shout for the girl for fear of alerting the enemy within. Here and there bodies lay. Obviously there had been fallings out over which items would be taken by which members of the household. The smell of blood was rank in the air. At one point Cassian slipped in the pools of deep crimson liquid which virtually covered the whole floor. The gentle buzz of flies was becoming more pronounced, as the stench of the dead wafted through the streets of Caralis. The eager insects rarely required much more of an invitation.

  He entered the slaves quarter. It was deathly quiet, as though not a living soul had been here for an eternity. The lack of sunlight only added to the oppressive feeling. The rooms were small and lead into a hallway which was enclosed. The area suppressed the mind of any visitor, making them seek only refuge from the place. Steadily he moved down the hallway occasionally slipping in the viscous liquid, or brushing against a heavy objects on the floor. He chose not to examine these things, for he already fought back nausea and dared not let his eyes see what his mind imagined.

  At the end of the hall the room seemed to open out and, even before he reached it, he could see the shards of light penetrating the room. He picked up his pace a little, hoping for the freshness of a breeze. He came to what looked like the kitchen area. His eyes came to rest on a large table in the centre of the room and on top of it was a figure, blood obscuring its features. Every inch of him wanted to move quickly past the figure, but he was drawn to it as flies are drawn to a corpse.

  He knew who it was long before he swept the blood matted hair away from the beaten face. A bag lay on the floor, all her possessions sprawling from it. Cassian could only guess, but it seemed to him she had been collecting her belongings before she joined the convoy. Her clothes had been torn from her and her nakedness revealed the suffering she had endured before death had finally taken her. A red welt around her neck clearly showed where a necklace with a small wooden charm had been ripped from her throat. Cassian remembered seeing her grasp it when she sobbed the night before. He counted at least three puncture wounds upon her pure, feeble body, with numerous swollen areas where obviously she had been beaten. He took off his own cloak and laid it over her, straightening her limbs as he did so. He stroked the girls head and his tears fell and mixed with her blood. He gently kissed her upon the forehead.,

  ‘Forgive me.’

  He stayed with her, the rest of the house had no lure for him. Inside him his emotions fought one another for precedence. One moment anger, then sorrow, but the victor was shame. Shame that he had allowed such a crime to an innocent.

  The noise broke the grief he felt for this brave girl in front of him. He raised himself, forcing himself to be aware of the dangers around him. He moved silently to the far door. The noise had come from the room beyond. He gradually eased open the door, to observe a figure rifling through the belongings of the slaves. On making sure the figure was alone, Cassian slipped inside hoping to stay unnoticed for as long as possible. An old male slave lay slumped against the wall. His throat had been cut and the look of surprise was still etched on his face. Cassian moved quietly towards what he supposed to be the killer of the old man, but the figure had noticed a movement from the corner of his eye.

  The figure leapt up, holding a dagger in one hand. He then crouched and picked up a sword with the other.

  ‘Clear off, this my room. Or I'll gut you.’ The man's clothes were covered in blood and he sported scratches down his face.

  ‘No worries my friend, just passing by.’ Cassian's sickly sweet tone had returned. ‘We all need to earn a little coin.’

  ‘Hmm.’ The man grunted and dropped the arm holding the dagger. The movement made Cassian glance down at his arm and there, wrapped around the wrist, was a necklace with a small wooden pendent on it. The smile never left his face, an art he had mastered for so long which served him well, even when an anger burned within. Cassian smiled.,

  ‘I will let you get on.’ He turned and walked towards the door, but as he reached it he pushed the door closed and slid the heavy bolt into place, sealing both him and the looter inside. He casually turned, the sickly smile still on his face but his eyes burned with the fury of the Gods themselves. The looter looked upon those eyes, he did not lift his dagger or attempt to run but merely stared.

  Cassian strode back into the camp, the dark mood engulfing him. He moved silently through the rest of the men and away from all who would try to converse with him. He looked out to sea and began watching the approach of Lathryus. Spartacus observed him, his cloak gone and his tunic covered with blood. Gone was the smiling Cassian. Spartacus approached him, placing his own cloak upon his friend's shoulders.,

  ‘Are you injured?’ hHe asked. Cassian glanced down at himself.,

  ‘Oh no….it's not mine.’ He spoke as if in a another world.

  ‘What happened?’ Spartacus sensed great sadness within Cassian.

  ‘It's as you said Spartacus – the Gods will have their sacrifice.’ As he spoke a single tear rolled down his cheek. Cassian needed to be only with his demons and his shame.

  The boat pulled alongside the dock and Spartacus prevented Lathryus from talking to Cassian. In fact he kept all of the men from the Roman. For Cassian had just become aware, if he hadn't been before, that this was not a game being played. That bits of paper and plans rarely did the pain and agony suffered by all involved the justice they deserved.

  The cargo was loaded and farewells said. Cassian did briefly speak to Albus and asked him to take care of the girl. He believed she deserved better than to rot away on a kitchen table. Albus promised he would do all that was required and it was not long before Lathyrus gave his orders and Spartacus and the wagons turned away from Caralis sailing into new dangers ahead.

  Albus watched as the vessel slipped its mooring and moved out into open sea. He turned and looked at the state of Caralis. The smell of burnt embers still hung in the air. He shook his head and thought of Cassian.,

  ‘What a mess you have made my young friend, but I thank you for it.’ He turned to his men., ‘Right let's put this place back together like we should have done months ago.’ He sent messengers to gather the main power brokers within Caralis to him. Meanwhile he and the rest of the men made their way to the once powerful household of Apelios. Albus could see a small crowd gathered around the main entrance, looks of horror upon their faces. He could not see what they were looking at but, judging the reaction of the crowd, this wasn't going to pretty. He braced himself, pushed out his chest and, leading his men, advanced.

  ‘Out of the way! Make way there!’ Albus shouted. The crowd parted and even the war hardened veteran of many a campaign was made to stop in total shock. A man was pinned to the main door. His genitalia had been removed, as had many other extremities. There was hardly a place on his body which had not suffered. This man had not been killed or even executed, this man had been torn apart and it had been done slowly, to exact as much pain as possible. Beside his battered body, hung a notice. It read :

  ‘Murderer, Rapist, Looter, Defiler of the Weak. Look upon this Cara
lis and see the result of your actions.’

  ‘Shall I remove him Ssir?’ aAsked one of Albus’ men.

  Albus took a big gulp of air, fighting back the bile in his throat and studied the people around him.,

  ‘No he stays until all have seen. We shall have law in Caralis.’

  He marched his men into the villa. Bits of paper fluttered here and there as the main doors were opened, as ash flutters in the breeze. Albus knew it was up to him to make sure that Caralis was re-born from those ashes and, though the inhabitants did not know it, they owed the young Cassian a great debt and they should praise the day he entered the port.

  Chapter 16

  The vessel cut through the waves with delightful ease, and those of Cassian's men who could settled down and tried to sleep. Cassian himself drifted away from the men, his mood matching the darkness of the clouds on the horizon. He moved to the cargo area, where he could be alone. Cassian glanced down at his hand and there, within it, saw the small wooden pendent grasped tightly. In his mind he argued with himself. It would have been impossible for him to have taken the girl to safety when she asked, but the guilt was eating away at him. He remembered her big pleading blue eyes, a face so filled with beauty and vulnerability and he had walked away, put his own safety first. He tried to lie to himself, to claim it was for the good of the mission but, the truth was, he knew she would slow him up. He had not thought about the danger she would be in, come the death of Apelios. He closed his eyes only wanting to sleep but the images invaded his restless mind. They alternated between her pleading eyes looking up at him and then to her broken, smashed body lying on the hard wooden surface. The beauty that she had once been totally gone from her. He curled into a ball against some cargo, trying to block out the world.

  The feelings Cassian experienced were new to him. He struggled to comprehend why he felt as he did. The type of world Cassian operated in meant people in his service died all the time. However, he had always been able to argue the loss was for the greater good. This was different, the death was pointless and served no end. The victim had already suffered too much for one so young and feeble but then to die like that, in so much pain without any possibility of survival. No person in the world cared whether she died or not. He had been the one person before her death who could have made the difference but he had failed utterly and totally. He had simply turned away and left her to the whim of the fates.

  Lathyrus joined Spartacus at the rail. He could see Spartacus watching the foreboding clouds come closer and closer and smiled.

  ‘Worried about a bit of bad weather boy?’ Lathryus spoke in his usual highly confident manner. Spartacus was surprised at being addressed as boy, he had not realised Lathryus was a good deal older than himself, but he admitted to himself those clouds were an ominous sight.

  ‘Shouldn't we try to avoid them?’ He said, trying to keep the calm in his voice.

  ‘Usually yes, but other factors need to be taken into account.’ Lathryus pointed to another place on the horizon as he answered. Spartacus followed his hand, carrying on his vision to the horizon. At first he could see nothing but then a sail, then another and another.

  ‘Bollocks!’ He said, for he had no wish to do battle at sea, walking was difficult enough.

  ‘Not to worry Spartacus. This little beauty rides the waves like a whore on a senator's cock.’ Lathryus boomed his usual laugh and slapped Spartacus so hard he nearly tipped head long into the waves.

  ‘You dozy fuck.’ Spartacus screamed his annoyance, but Lathryus just laughed all the more. ‘I think I best go inform Cassian, we need him here,’ Spartacus said, but to be honest had no confidence approaching Cassian in his present mood.

  ‘That is true enough, but there's more than one storm brewing tonight. Our young master needs to get his head in calmer waters.’ Spartacus didn't reply, merely nodded his agreement and, with that, turned and searched for Cassian. Now was not the time to dwell on the past, for the future had enough dangers of its own.

  The dark, damp interior of the vessel made Spartacus feel even more sickly than before, especially as the waves hitting the vessel were becoming more and more substantial. He eventually found Cassian, huddled in a ball in the darkest corner of all. The bundle never moved when Spartacus neared, despite the huge man struggling to keep his footing and more than once swearing his displeasure.

  ‘Cassian, you're needed above, we have problems,’ Spartacus shouted but no response came. ‘Get the fuck up, you're needed now!’ Spartacus said, his temper erupting. ‘By the Gods, I hate the sea!’ He shouted.

  Cassian turned and looked at the big man,

  ‘She asked for my help…I failed her,’ Cassian said, so weakly Spartacus’ temper disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  ‘Who, the slave girl?’ Spartacus asked.

  ‘Yes I found her…he broke her poor little body, raped her and then killed her. I mean, why kill the girl?’ Cassian searched Spartacus for an answer.

  ‘Who knows why these men do such things, it does no good to think on it,’ Spartacus replied. He had no answers, he had seen many shameful things and was usually powerless to stop them.

  ‘I found him,’ Cassian said, a different glow in his eyes.

  ‘Who?’ Spartacus was confused by the sudden change in direction of the conversation.

  ‘The man who killed her,’ Cassian said pointedly.

  ‘I take it you killed the bastard, that's good and now put it behind you, we…’ Spartacus was interrupted.

  ‘Oh I didn't just kill him, I took him apart bit by bit. The more he screamed the more intense I made his agony. I didn't stop until the room was covered in blood,’ Cassian paused, ‘but it made no difference you see!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Spartacus was lost by Cassian's remarks.

  ‘It was me who killed her. I should have taken her away when I had the chance, by killing him the way I did I was trying to wipe my guilt clear – but it never changed a thing.’ Cassian held his head in his hands.

  ‘Do you think anything will ever take away the guilt each and every soldier feels? That I, young Plinius, Bull, Aegis, and now you, feel. Last night, when we returned from the port, you felt the exhilaration and glory of battle and today you feel the guilt. They are the two sides of a coin, you cannot have one without the other,’ Spartacus stated. It was a fact he had learned many years before.

  ‘But how do you cope?’ Cassian begged for an answer.

  ‘Mostly, you just do what you must for your comrades. When you have a chance you get blind drunk, so drunk you don't feel at all. Now on your feet we are in the shit!’ Spartacus barked out the last word with such ferocity Cassian was compelled to obey. The authority in Spartacus’ voice made him move despite his reluctance. He slowly followed but his mind was still swimming with the apparitional face of the young slave girl.

  They joined Lathyrus. He was watching the progress of both the sails and the storm, a calm, confident look upon his face. He smiled at Cassian and Spartacus.

  ‘They sense blood, see how they hurry.’

  ‘They are a good deal closer than before,’ Spartacus remarked.

  ‘That they are young man, that they are. But they won't ever get close.’ It was spoken as fact, the man had a confidence not shared by Spartacus. Years had taught him how to view the sea, learning to love and hate her in equal measure.

  ‘How can you be so sure? They have already halved the distance between us,’ Spartacus said, his usual annoyance showing at over confidence.

  ‘When you fought in the arena I hear you were rather good,’ Lathyrus stated. The change in the conversation took Spartacus off guard but he managed an answer.

  ‘I won more than I lost.’

  ‘The way you managed this was through watching an opponent, working out his failings, Yes?’

  ‘And these vessels approaching are your opponent and they have failings?’ Spartacus replied, trying to see Lathyrus’ point of view.

  ‘The vessels my
opponents? Oh no but, by the Gods, they have plenty of failings. The sea is the opponent, everything else just factors to be taken into account. The sea, that's where the real danger lies.’ The smile was gone and a more studied look enveloped his face. He continued. ‘You see, the waves breaking on the sides of those vessels?’

  ‘Yes,’ Spartacus replied.

  ‘Well, the size of the waves means all of those vessels are taking in water. Not much, but it's building with each wave. They will become a little slower and, more importantly, they won't move in the water as well.’ Lathryus was now giving a lesson and his two students were becoming more and more interested. ‘Now this in itself would not be a problem, but the winds they will be changing before long. Those speeding boats, rushing to carve us up, will be caught in the winds not able to turn. A good captain would be able to spot the problem but, as they are still racing towards us, I think a good captain is what they are lacking.’

  ‘But won't we suffer the same fate?’ Cassian now asked, his interest pricked.

  ‘This little beauty of mine skims the waves, she rarely takes on much water. Besides, I have the advantage.’ He smiled.

  ‘And that is?’ Spartacus asked, this time pushing for an answer.

  ‘I know which way the wind will blow and will catch her gently in my sails. Those poor buggers will be lucky if they're not sailing the River of Styx by nightfall.’ He spoke for the first time with a slight look of regret upon his face. Lathyrus was a sailor and knew what a carnivorous lover the sea was, he had no wish to watch fellow sailors devoured by her.

  Time passed and, with each moment, the sails in the distance came closer and became more menacing. Spartacus kept glancing at the sails and then at Lathyrus.

  ‘You're sure?’ He shouted. The storm was raging in his ears, numbing the sounds around him.

  ‘This is nature Spartacus, it would be truly boring if she did the same thing all the time.’ He whooped his delight as the powerful winds whipped at his face.