Spartacus

by Robert Southworth

  ‘Alright, alright. Anymore of that and I will throw you off the bloody platform myself.’

  The men laughed and summoned all their courage, for the next bout would be the most dangerous and what they had all given so much to be a part of.

  Chapter 23

  It was a long walk to the arena. Cassian refused to be carried and it seemed to take an age but, thanks to the herbs of Stoiclese, he was in good form, milking the crowd who cheered all of their names. The crowd were so intense even Spartacus felt giddy. He had never experienced such levels of pure excitement, even at his pinnacle at Capua. The men of the crowd roared in appreciation of what they had seen these men achieve, the women screamed at the immense manliness of those in front of them. Some of the less inhibited even bared their breasts and made certain movements with their bodies to show how they would like to celebrate with the men.

  ‘You mind if I stop of here for a bit?’ Bull joked.

  ‘Not even your mighty sword could handle that lot, you best come with us,’ Spartacus replied.

  ‘It's a shame Aegis won't be with us to see our triumph,’ Plinius stated.

  ‘But he is Plinius. All those we travelled with are by our side and add weight to our blows.’ As Spartacus spoke he thought of all the men who were no longer with them. Deep down he vowed that, no matter the cost, victory would be achieved in the name of each and every one of them lost on this mission.

  They reached the location where the group must separate, Cassian and Bull would enter the arena through a different door to make their way to the central platform. Before they went they wished a great victory and safety from harm to Spartacus and Plinius.

  ‘I feel you face just as much danger as we do.’

  Bull, be on your guard. Dido is the sort of man who will not give up his power lightly, watch the devious little bastard.’ Spartacus was concerned, for if trouble did start on the platform then Cassian could not defend himself, only Bull would be able to keep him from harm.

  ‘Don't worry, if he starts anything I'll gut the little prick.’ He spat on the floor as he spoke as if to show his distaste for men like Dido. Inside Bull was excited at the chance of running a blade through the man, for although he had never met Dido he loathed the man completely.

  Spartacus and Plinius made their way down the dark narrow steps to the waiting area where they could hear the crowd chanting their names. Suddenly a hush came over the crowd as Melachus began to speak.

  ‘People and guests of Utica, what a tournament this has been!’ The crowd cheered his words. ‘Great battles and heroic feats by men worthy of legend.’ Again the crowd acknowledged him. ‘And finally we come to the last bout, one of epic proportions…the challengers,’ as he spoke the heavy wooden doors to the arena floor began to open, ‘destroyer of so many fine warriors…Plinius.’

  ‘I think that would be you,’ Spartacus smirked.

  ‘Don't rush, the crowd loves me, give them time to show it,’ Plinius replied. He strode out, arms aloft bathing in the adoration.

  ‘And now, a man who slew the great Colossus without breaking sweat… Spartacus.’ The crowd erupted and Spartacus did not disappoint. He roared his battle cry and flexed his muscles for all to see his prowess. It was not something he usually did, but today the odds were stacked heavily against the two warriors and perhaps it was best to concentrate on the pomp and ceremony rather than the dangers ahead.

  ‘Now they face their greatest foe, three men forged in battle. They fight as one, even their own mothers don't know their names but we know them! For they are the champions of Utica.’ Again the crowd whooped and roared and from the far end three figures strode into the arena, not even bothering to acknowledge the crowd. A message had been sent, they would do this job quickly and efficiently and the champions of Utica would have another victory.

  Dido smiled a beaming welcoming smile as Cassian finally reached the top of the platform, his face white with the effort with sweat pouring from his forehead. Behind him followed Bull, his hand never too far from the hilt of his sword.

  ‘Cassian! So glad you made it, I feared you would expire in the effort,’ Dido said in a over friendly way, which did nothing to hide the fact that part of him wished the Roman had done so.

  ‘Oh thank you for your warm welcome but, fear not, I have proved most resilient to dangers over the years and feel I have plenty of time left yet,’ Cassian replied.

  ‘Good, good… please sit near to me, let's enjoy the spectacle although I fear your men are out matched and the bout will not last long,’ Dido replied, obviously enjoying the moment.

  ‘I thought you knew fighters Dido but you have misjudged Spartacus. I would bet against all if Spartacus walked into that arena alone. The man is a God in the arena, I was telling Bull earlier how I saw him best six men in the arena at Capua, what a day that was.’

  It was an idle and untrue boast, for Cassian had seen no such thing, but he was pleased to see just a flicker of anxiety in the eyes of his enemy. It was very brief, Dido had obviously trained himself well, but it was there and Cassian enjoyed the moment. He quickly added.

  ‘And that Plinius, what a warrior he has become.’

  ‘Excellent! Then a great spectacle we shall experience, come wine is in order I believe.’ Dido gave the signal for wine, as he spoke Cassian never replied but smiled and nodded in agreement. Bull, on the other hand, had his eyes elsewhere. There were four guards on the platform top, all dressed in armour with a gladius at their side. Added to that a further two stood at the half way point on the steps of the platform. The man to his right, obviously the leader of the guards, nodded to him and performed a weak smile. Bull returned the smile thinking now there's a man in dilemma.

  The combatants closed in on one another and, before Plinius could react, Spartacus charged. It was not his usual tactic but he needed to split the oncoming champions. The move worked and now Plinius just faced one champion. He knew this was Spartacus’ plan and, although he felt a stab to his pride, secretly he thanked the much more experienced gladiator. Spartacus rained in so many blows that both of the champions were forced to retreat. The crowd roared its appreciation to see two champions forced onto the back foot. Up on the platform a concerned Dido shifted uneasily in his seat. Spartacus slowed his attack trying to conserve his energy, but his attack had borne fruit. One of the champions now moved slowly thanks to a slash to his thigh. It would not stop him fighting but his movement would be reduced. Then his opponents moved onto the offensive and Spartacus became aware of why they had been so successful. Neither were particularly great fighters but they worked superbly as a team. Over and over again one went high as the other went low, and only great skill kept Spartacus from harm. Plinius fared better, with only one enemy in front of him. He traded blows well with the champion. Both were well matched, similar in speed. Plinius probably had the edge, but his opponent had the experience and a number of times it saved him from potentially fatal moments.

  The crowd cheered and sucked in the air about them when a blow went close to causing damage. Spartacus received a cut to the arm and the crowd went berserk. Dido rose from his seat sensing blood, but his euphoria was short lived as the champion who made the cut delayed too long and Spartacus, ignoring his own blood flowing, took the man's head clean off. A cascade of blood shot into the air, resembling a grotesque fountain. That was it, the crowd went totally insane. They called out his name almost forgetting the other battle raging in the arena.

  The crowd noise rose to an incredible level and stayed there. Now it was impossible to tell when something new had happened from the cheers of the crowd. Spartacus could not tell how the other fight was progressing but, as he had neither been joined by friend or foe, he could only guess it still raged. Spartacus now pressed his remaining foe, the man much less confident without the teamwork of his comrade. Blow after blow tested the man's skill and initially he withstood the barrage, but eventually his defences were breached, as he slumped to the ground blood pouring f
rom three separate slashes on his body. Spartacus finished him with thrust to the throat. He turned and elation took over, for there was Plinius standing above his opponent his sword pinning the man's torso to the floor. Spartacus raced to congratulate the young, brave man.

  Spartacus cheered and turned Plinius to face him. The young warrior smiled, a small drop of blood in the corner of his mouth and the whiteness already creeping up his face. He slumped into Spartacus’ arms who lowered him gently to the floor, holding his head from the dirt of the arena. Spartacus searched Plinius for an injury and found a dagger had been plunged into the warrior's side, just as his breast plate finished. Plinius looked at Spartacus.

  ‘Did we win?’ He asked.

  ‘Yes. Now calm yourself, the healers are on their way,’ replied Spartacus. But as he spoke he knew it was already too late.

  ‘I …I made a promise to Chia, freedom,’ he struggled, blood now staining the sand where he lay.

  ‘She will have all you promised and more, you have my word,’ Spartacus replied looking at the boy. He realised why he felt such an urge to protect him, it was the eyes – it was like looking straight into his son's and the grief welled inside like a great wave. He struggled to hold back those waves.

  ‘I wanted to make you proud…’ Plinius was fading, his voice growing weaker, the rasping in his chest growing as his lungs fought for air.

  ‘A general could not be more proud of a soldier,’ and then Spartacus sobbed, ‘a father of a son.’

  He held the boy long after he had slipped from this world. All the pain Spartacus had suffered for so long seemed to meet at this point. His heart could not hold back the sheer agony of it all. He roared, but not to intimidate an enemy this was pure anger at a world that had taken too much from him. He slumped over the body of Plinius and he sobbed, until there no tears left within him and still he held the boy. If Pluto the God of the afterlife had tried to take the body now he would not have been able to break Spartacus’ grip upon it.

  Cassian and Bull now stood at the platform's edge. The usually light hearted Bull stood with tears rolling down his cheeks, he never made a sound but he could not prevent the tears being freed. Cassian however turned the grief to anger, he spun around and as loud as he could shouted.

  ‘It's time to pay your debts Dido.’

  ‘What?’ Dido could not believe it, one man and a boy had defeated his champions. This could not be happening.

  ‘The laws of this place say all debts must be honoured, no matter by whom.’ Cassian pushed the argument. His anger threatening to get the better of him.

  ‘I'm not giving you a single coin. Guards kill them!’ Dido was desperate and, despite the crowd howling its discontent at what they were witnessing, he was not going to lose it all to this arrogant Roman, or anyone come to that.

  Postus had been watching the battle in the arena and had seen the valiant Spartacus defeat two champions as though he was a God. He then observed his humanity as he wept for his slain friend. His resolve stiffened and when the order came for Cassian to be slain and the other guards moved to carry out the orders, he could not stand by.

  ‘Back to your positions! By the laws of the games all debts must be paid,’ as he spoke he looked at Dido. His master stood aghast at the betrayal, and Postus smiled.

  ‘How dare you! I rule here, me and no other.’ He went to move towards Cassian, but Bull drew his weapon so quickly Dido only just managed to prevent himself being impaled upon it. He slumped back into his chair unbelieving in what the Gods had done to him. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Then you shall remove yourself from this place immediately. Do not go back to the household for it and everything in it belongs to me, do I make myself clear?’ Cassian's stare still burned with anger from which Dido shrank, merely nodding. He complied and, rising from his chair, he began to leave.

  ‘Wait!’ Cassian shouted, making Dido turn once again to meet his stare ‘I believe that tunic belongs to me.’

  The crowd had whooped and cheered when Cassian rose in front of them and pronounced two days of celebration all at his expense. There was to be food, wine, music, dancers and whores to fill every guest of Utica with joy and all paid for by their new patron. By far the loudest cheer though came for Dido as he ran naked first from the arena and then through the streets of Utica. His slender frame became bruised as the crowds took the chance to throw anything to hand at him. He eventually sheltered in a small barn, his battered and bruised body struggling when the cold of the night set in. The parties raged all over Utica and Melachus strode around the streets until he found the quivering Dido.

  ‘Master come, how could they have done this to you?’ Melachus helped Dido to his feet and placed his own robe around him, and led him to a small warehouse. ‘In here it is safe and warm I will fetch you some food and beverage.’

  ‘Thank you Melachus,’ Dido replied weakly.

  The trader who owned the warehouse had thought he heard a noise but, on looking from his window, he dismissed it. There was so much noise tonight it could have come from anywhere and he tried his best to sleep with the din in the streets. The following morning he rose and, intent on getting supplies, he entered his warehouse to be met by a truly horrific sight. A naked man was tied to the table. The figure was spread eagled and his manhood was gone. There were no other significant marks upon his body so it was evident he had been left there to bleed out in agony, his screams hidden by the euphoria that had taken place in the city.

  Lathyrus had observed the craft pass his cove and head towards the Roman fleet sheltering just down the coast. That had been quite some time ago and now, finally, he could see Roman sail beginning to occupy the horizon. Obviously the small craft had brought a message which had motivated the fleet into action. Lathyrus disliked being a static observer, not knowing the fate of his comrades. He was of half a mind to run the risk of the Roman fleet and go to Utica to find his friends. He wondered whether Cassian had been successful, for even with the fleet on the move it proved nothing, for the fleet would not pass up the opportunity to sink pirate vessels whether Cassian was dead or alive. Even now if the fleet was spotted by those in Utica many of the pirate vessels could slip away, for the Roman beast was a lumbering animal at best. The sails took their time but eventually the last of the great Roman vessels disappeared from view. As they did, the small craft which had passed the cove so long ago came into view and began to make its way to Lathyrus’ cove. The wait was unbearable and Lathyrus fidgeted nervously. Finally a man approached him on the beach.

  ‘Greeting Lathyrus, I have news from Cassian.’ Lathyrus, his patience finally giving way, demanded.

  ‘Well tell me, for the Gods sake.’

  ‘Cassian sends word that the plan is in place, and you should… ‘ The man did not finish for Lathyrus cheered his delight, lifting the man off the floor and hugging him.

  ‘Bring wine,’ he shouted, his booming laughter startling the birds from the trees.

  Chapter 24

  While the once powerful Dido vented his death screams with no man able to hear, a lone figure sat by the fire seeing the ghosts of the past wander by his mind's eye. The powerful man, built for battle and glory, was so lost within himself a child could easily have approached and thrust a dagger into his heart and the great warrior would not have tried to defend himself, but instead would have happily drifted away on the mists of misfortune and loss. He was unaware of the figure that approached him. It would be the third friend to try and shake him from his melancholy; both Cassian and Bull had left, shaking their heads, at a loss at what to do. The third figure had only recently heard of the great battle within the arena. His pride and grief at both victory and loss were still raging their own battle within him, but he raised himself above his own mental and physical hardship to be at his friend's side.

  ‘Spartacus it is time to leave this place. You can do no more here.’ Aegis was as large as a mountain but spoke as gently as the morning mist which caresses and places a gent
le kiss upon the flower. Spartacus stirred, slightly shocked to see Aegis up on his feet.

  ‘Aegis, I am glad to see you recovering.’ The words were meant but the speaker was lost again in the flames as soon as they were uttered.

  ‘It was not a request. Spartacus come from this place,’ Aegis said, his voice becoming stern.

  ‘The mission is over Aegis. Leave me in peace, I am a free man. I do as I like,’ Spartacus spat back at Aegis.

  ‘And that involves self pity and dishonouring Plinius?’ The words were harsh and the owner for a minute thought to retract them, but Spartacus was already on his feet his hand on his sword.

  ‘You dare say I dishonour Plinius,’ Spartacus raged, but Aegis stood his ground. He met the stare of the great gladiator and would not yield.

  ‘You see this?’ Aegis held up the leather capped stump where his hand once been, ‘When you turn your back on your friends you dishonour the sacrifices that I, Plinius, Thulis and all made to get us to this point, but most of all you dishonour yourself.’

  Aegis’ words hit home. The anger left Spartacus as quickly as it had risen, he slumped back down.

  ‘You do not understand,’ his words were feeble, the fight had gone from him. ‘His eyes you see… ‘

  ‘Spartacus, you saw the eyes of the young Plinius. They are the eyes all of us men see in the innocent and vulnerable. Did you not think I saw my child in the boy? – But we are not Gods Spartacus, we are mere men and we cannot protect the innocent from all the woes of the world, no matter how much it shames us.’ Aegis’ words were gentler now, he understood the man and he too felt the shame that he was not there to help Plinius.

  ‘I'm tired Aegis.’

  It was more than a statement of a man requiring sleep, it was a declaration that he had withstood enough misery.

  ‘I know my friend,’ Aegis replied, and he took the warrior by the arm. The warrior became as a sheep, gently moved from the place by Aegis the gentle shepherd. They walked in silence to the former household of Dido and Spartacus finally found sleep. He did not dream or stir until the morning sun washed into his room. Aegis did not retire to his quarters but, instead, left to find the body of Plinius not wanting the young man to be cast away with the other fallen of the arena. The young warrior and friend deserved to be honoured.