Spartacus

by Robert Southworth

  ‘He's fucking insane!’ Spartacus called out, more for his own benefit rather than for anyone else.

  Just then Spartacus saw Lathyrus giving commands, but could hear nothing due to the high winds stealing away the sounds. Lathyrus’ men though seemed to react with awesome efficiency and, before long, the boat was turning, slowly at first, fighting the waves which now punished her. The crew were cheering. He heard bits of conversation about the wind and strained to hear more. If the wind had changed direction it was news to Spartacus. It seemed to be hitting him from all sides, exactly the same as before. Then Spartacus noticed the increase in speed, though slight at first but growing. After some time he could tell the waves seemed to be losing their power, not rocking the boat with anywhere near the ferocity as before. He glanced out at the sails and they seemed fine for a while but then they seemed to virtually stop dead, as though running into an invisible wall. He could see the enemy, scurrying around the decks of the opposing vessels, and although he could not hear a sound, he sensed their panic. Suddenly on the second boat he saw a mast smash apart, the great winds smashing it to splinters. He could tell the crew were screaming to the Gods for protection but it was in vain. Another huge wave took the vessel in the side and many of the crew were thrown overboard to certain destruction, for no man could survive in such waves. It was hit again and again. With no hope of catching the wind, it was dead in the water and each wave covered the deck and filled the hull. Spartacus watched the dreadful sight, unable to look away, captivated by the sheer destructive power of nature. Then in a blink of an eye the vessel vanished, the sea had claimed her, only the wind and waves occupied the space she had once been.

  The sun shone. It was hard to believe that in such a short space of time the sky was blue and the sea totally flat. Spartacus had watched the battle between man and nature for some time, nature had delivered a crushing defeat to man. Two of the vessels would be seen no more, the third limped away from the field of battle, wounded and incapable of fighting any more. Occasionally a body was spotted in the water, but little could be done and Lathyrus performed some sort of ceremony, which thanked the Gods for delivering his vessel whilst also honouring fellow sailors who had been lost. It was the first time Spartacus had seen him so serious and he likened it to when a brother of the ludus had fallen in battle. Members of the same ludus would honour the loss of a fellow gladiator, almost as a family member.

  Eventually Lathyrus returned to his normal self and he and Cassian took time out to discuss the mission. Cassian seemed to avoid Spartacus, the latter believing Cassian to be feeling some shame for letting emotions be seen in the raw. It was nothing to Spartacus but to a man with breeding, like Cassian, it was frowned upon. It was not done within the higher ranks of Roman society to seem so vulnerable. So Spartacus gave him space and allowed the plans to be made in his absence. Besides, he took the time to speak to the men and could sense their confidence in entering the final stage of the mission. He had grown to admire each of them, to survive this far demanded that admiration. It was a strange to respect Romans, but they had earned it with blood and pain and no little skill. He glanced around at each of them and was reminded of the night before Crassus’ legions had fallen upon the slave army with such devastating effect. He prayed to the Gods that these men would not meet the same end.

  As the calm water and the warming caress of the sun settled upon the men, it gave Spartacus the chance to think of his family. The chaos of the mission had all too easily driven them from him. Only his dreams afforded him such luxury. His beloved's face swam into his mind's eye making him crave her smile. He wondered if he would ever see his daughter again, she was so young when he had left. Even if he did see her, would she recognise him or be afraid by his presence and turn from him? His mind relaxed too much, allowing the images of his son to enter. The grief overwhelmed him. It weighed so heavily upon his heart it would surely crush him. Just when it seemed the emotions were becoming too much, a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

  ‘Be still my friend, I bring you wine with just a few herbs of my own.’ Aegis smiled and added, ‘they settle both the gut and the mind.’ Spartacus was amazed at the man's insight, or was he allowing his grief to become too obvious to the men? He glanced around to see if any of the others were observing him and noted, gratefully, they were not.

  ‘Sometimes the quiet moments are the worst to deal with,’ Spartacus responded, drinking the wine greedily.

  ‘It is so, but they are needed and we just need to learn how best to overcome them, like a new opponent.’

  ‘Give me the arena any day.’ Aegis smiled at Spartacus’ words.

  ‘It is always easier to deal with an enemy to our front, much more difficult are those from within. But master, those enemies and the victory tastes just as sweet, perhaps more so.’ The huge man again patted Spartacus on the shoulder, rose and walked away. Spartacus watched him go and wondered whether the man was healer, warrior or magician. He did not know, but if it was one or all three he was glad the man was here, for his skills would be needed.

  Chapter 17

  Lathyrus negotiated into a small secluded cove. They would travel the small distance up to Utica at first light. The men were glad to feel the welcoming sand beneath their feet as they strolled along the beach. Aegis and Plinius had wandered away from the main party. It looked to Spartacus as if Plinius was picking up any extra tips from Aegis on how to fight in the arena. Cassian had ordered a pig to be slaughtered and for a small quantity of wine to be distributed amongst the men. Tonight they should relax before the deadly business of the tournament. He finally chose to speak to Spartacus.

  ‘Think they are good enough to face what's in front of them in the arena?’ He said, clearly hoping for a positive response from Spartacus.

  ‘They fight well, and they instinctively fight as a team. I have not seen the qualities of the opponents we will come up against, but I'd say they have a chance.’ He did not know what Cassian required of him, these men were good, strong fighters but they were not gladiators. They had not experienced the arena. It was completely different to the fighting these men had trained for and experienced before. He only hoped the instructions he had given to them would keep them alive.

  Cassian had seemed to Spartacus to be in a lighter mood, although once or twice he had seen the man drift away as if pulled back to a world of shadow and misery. Thankfully the tasks ahead needed his careful consideration, and therefore, he had little time for reflection on the ghosts of the past.

  The planning went into the night, with Lathyrus not happy when he was forbidden by Cassian from attending the games. He was told he must return to the cove and wait until he received further instruction, after he had deposited the men and the wagons at the port of Utica. The men slept uneasily that night. Despite the best food and wine, all knew the task ahead of them. They received their orders for the following day, Cassian clearly trying to set them at ease by keeping them informed. A valiant try, but few men slept easily when the shadows of death hovered but a heartbeat away.

  The morning came all too soon for those who had laboured in drifting away to slumber. Sleep filled eyes and aching muscles greeted the start of day, but they followed the orders laid down to them the previous night. A new cargo was brought ashore on Cassian's orders. When the sheets were removed from the crates they discovered the very best quality of weapons and gleaming new armour and the men gasped in delight. Even Spartacus was awed by the quality of the swords, crafted to the very highest of standards. Spartacus kept his own swords but took a small shield and a new helmet, though he had rarely fought in one at Capua, finding both shield and helmet restrictive. However, with so many warriors in the arena at one time, a blow may easily be overlooked and it was important to try and defend against such things.

  Unlike usual arena games each gladiator could carry whatever weapon and as many as he wanted to into the fight. However, Spartacus was quick to point out to a number of the men that, after you have bee
n in the arena fighting for your life, the extra weight could get you killed. This said, Spartacus had decided to carry an extra sword by carefully fixing in to a sling over his back. When the men looked at him he quickly added.

  ‘The extra sword I carry is because I have no doubt that one of you useless buggers will lose yours,’ but his face betrayed him.

  The men jeered at his lies and he laughed, the morning's tension slipping away with each insult and laughter made. They dressed in all the finery and soon were joined by Cassian, who also wore new armour, and two gladius at his hips. Bull whistled as he approached.

  ‘Why thank you Bull but, I have told you I don't think of you in that way,’ he chided.

  The men continued in good form throughout the morning. Even the call to make ready to board did not dent their high spirits. Boarding the ship was more hazardous than usual in the full armour and it was Spartacus again who nearly toppled into the surf, the men hooted loudly at his curses.

  The voyage was thankfully short as being out on deck under the glare of the sun made the men regret their earlier excitement at the new armour, sweat pouring from every available pore. The port was a mass of boats and scrambling men. Each boat was unloading men and armour and all boats came with a huge chest, obviously payment for entry into the games. Lathyrus ordered the unloading, his men again excelling in their duties. Clasping both Cassian and Spartacus in turn by the forearm, he wished them strength and good fortune. They thanked him for all he had delivered, he winked at Cassian.

  ‘That little thing you wanted me to arrange is waiting at the end of the dock. You need to speak to Theltus, he will sort you out.’ Again Cassian thanked him. The convoy, now alone again, made its way through the throng of the busy docks.

  ‘What was Lathyrus talking about?’ Spartacus enquired.

  ‘A surprise, that is all. I told you we need to make an impact to get everyone's attention,’ Cassian replied smiling, but said no more

  The convoy continued. Most moved from their path, the gleaming armour and the three wagons laden with chests imposing a will of their own. Towards the end of the docks, Cassian strode out to meet a thin, willowy man who was clearly disgruntled by the hustle and bustle of the streets. He bowed to Cassian and a conversation ensued, but the words were lost on Spartacus mostly due to the sheer noise emanating from the multitude of wagons, animals and people. There was a nodding of agreement and Theltus scurried away, obviously intent on doing the bidding of Cassian. A few moments later and the warehouse buildings began to thin. The masses of people however did not and there, stretching out in front of the convoy, was a paved road, unusual in this part of the world. At its end there was a huge arena, the like of which Spartacus had never seen before. As they approached the ominous building, Theltus was busily clearing a gap both in front and behind the convoy. For a moment Spartacus feared a trap, his hand instinctively moving towards his sword. Cassian placed his hand upon Spartacus’ arm.

  ‘Do not worry my friend, this is my doing. I promised you an entrance.’

  Filing both in front and behind the convoy were men armed with great horns, known as buccina, which began to herald the arrival of Cassian's men to the arena. All around stopped in their tracks, the noise was deafening. Even Spartacus found himself puffing out his chest in pride. What a sight they must have been -the gleaming armour, the accompanying band and the wagons, with chest upon chest which many guessed to be filled with coin. Their eyes hungrily took in the feast, few had seen such a procession and the delight at it brought tremendous cheering which showed no signs of halting.

  The convoy entered the arena, its huge walls and gates stealing the sun from above their heads. It seemed to take an age to traverse the space between the gate and the arena floor. Both the warriors and the crowd were in awe of the sheer size of the place. They emerged into the light, the horns never faltering once and the masses inside turned to look at them. It took a time to adjust the eyes from near darkness to the bright sunlit surroundings, but Cassian steered the convoy to the centre of the arena. A makeshift platform had been erected and, at its pinnacle, upon a ridiculous looking throne a figure sat, who they knew had to be Dido.

  Cassian strode out in front of the procession. The crowds parted, as if a Godlike hand swatted them aside, as the convoy moved ever closer to its target. The seated man rose as Cassian approached, as he did he lifted his hand to silence the horns. Cassian turned and nodded. The horns silenced immediately, like a flame extinguished by a sudden draft.

  The figure was obviously eyeing Cassian closely and why wouldn't he? The entrance was designed to get his attention and so far it had succeeded. The rest of the convoy came closer and, for the first time, Spartacus could see the self proclaimed ruler of the arena. The man was slender, almost feminine to look at, his oiled black hair immaculate with not a strand out of place. Slaves jumped at his every order. He reminded Spartacus of the figures he had seen in the mosaics at the villa of Crannicus, almost too pretty to be real especially for a man. He did not know why but, at that very instant, he decided he loathed the man.

  Cassian moved closer but did not get close enough so that Dido was looking directly down upon him, so as to give him the advantage in front of the onlookers. Cassian spoke loudly and great confidence.

  ‘Greetings my lord Dido. My men and I have travelled far to take part in the games you have graciously given to the world.’ Cassian doubted such unabashed flattery would count for much but it was worth a try.

  ‘Thank you. To whom do I have the pleasure?’ Dido may have looked like a girl but his voice could have been used as a weapon in its own right. It grated like a saw against the bone.

  ‘A mere lover of the gladiatorial game. I am Cassian Antonius, merchant to Rome.’ Cassian watched to see if Dido recognised the name. If he did it didn't show upon his face. Either Dido was ignorant of his name or had learned well to hide surprise.

  ‘Have you brought the monies as well as these fine troops, for the love of the game is not enough and all must pay, including myself?’ Dido was arrogant, he picked that moment to wave his hand towards his own chest, the lid being open so the crowd saw the immense wealth being brought forward.

  ‘I do my lord, I bring that and much, much more.’ Cassian then waved his hand and a wagon was brought forward. In turn each lid was opened and the chest placed at the foot of the platform. With every lid that opened a deafening cheer erupted from the stands. The crowd were not ignorant, they knew something strange was happening and the rising tension was palpable.

  ‘Tell me Cassian Antonius, why so much?’ He asked the question but, as a betting man, he already knew the stakes were about to be raised, he just didn't know what the bet was yet.

  ‘I have travelled long, far and wide,’ Cassian was now putting on a show, his gestures becoming more and more pronounced, ‘and the world talks about the games you hold here. The only other topics are your great gambles, which challenge the very fates.’ Cassian bowed his head in mock admiration. Dido shifted, he sensed a trap but with so many eyes watching his every move he would have to play the game.

  ‘The gamble you have in mind, please enlighten me?’ He tried to remain calm but those close enough could observe a small bead of sweat as it traced its way down his cheek.

  ‘A simple wager, as all the best are. My men to win. If we lose you keep this vast fortune, enough to buy half of Rome,’ Cassian finished letting the tension build.

  ‘And if you should, by chance, win?’ Dido's eyes narrowed.

  ‘Then I get everything. The coin, the games, all your assets, even the tunic you wear will belong to me.’ The crowd sucked in their breath, seeming to take the very air from the arena at Cassian's words. The trap had closed. This was beyond imagination, the crowd hung on every word, sensing the enormity of the situation.

  There was no way out for Dido. The games, the very way of life in Utica had been built on such deals and he always won, but usually he was the one raising the stakes and he would have
to once again.

  ‘So I risk everything and you only risk coin? It seems a little biased, I would like to amend the bet if I may.’ Dido was in his element, he lived to play for high stakes. He would test the character of this man and see him shuffle back to Rome, his arse in his hands for daring to play this game with Dido of Utica. Spartacus tried to catch the eye of Cassian. He had seen the game change, now the trap awaited Cassian but the crowd sensed blood and Cassian dared not step away now. The deal must be made.

  ‘Of course my lord.’ Cassian beamed, but in truth the elation was slipping away.

  ‘As the risk is so great and I have made a great deal of enemies over the years in service to Utica,’ he nodded to the crowd as they cheered him. ‘To lose my power would be almost as a death sentence and so, if I risk death so must you Cassian Antonius.’ It was Dido's turn to pause and let the intensity build. ‘Therefore of the six men you select to do battle in the arena, you must be one.’ He couldn't help leaning forward slightly to hear the response of this young Roman. He was shocked to see a smile broaden on the face of Cassian.

  ‘It seems fair, then the deal is made.’ His voice boomed around the arena.

  ‘It is.’ Dido said no more, merely waved them away, but inside the manner in which Cassian accepted this deal disturbed him.

  Lathyrus had set sail immediately, still a little annoyed at not being permitted to stay in Utica. His mood did not improve, especially when he heard the great buccina sound and the crowd roaring with delight. His journey took him back to the cove and, as they neared, he was hailed by a lookout. Lathyrus stared in amazement, for the horizon was full of sails all heading to what he guessed to be a larger cove, situated not far along the coast from his own. He had never seen so many Roman ships of war in his life and knew they were not simply out for a day in the sun.

  ‘What do we do Lathryus?’ His lookout asked, the concern visible on his face.