Spartacus: Rebellion (18 page)

A short pause.

‘I think that would be a fitting punishment,’ said Caesar loudly.

‘Agreed,’ called one of Crassus’ supporters.

Loud murmurs of concurrence rose from his faction. No one else spoke.

Crassus seized the moment. ‘There’s no need for Longinus to die. Not when others who’ve failed also have escaped such a fate.’

‘Too true!’ Caesar’s tone was acid.

Crassus smiled beatifically at the consuls’ futile glares.
This is only the start, you fools.

‘Longinus must stand down,’ cried a senator who followed Pompey.

‘Stand down! Stand down! Stand down!’ went the chant.

Irritated, Gellius waved his hand. ‘All right. It seems, Longinus, that your fellows wish you to resign as proconsul. And to pay a fine?’ He glanced out over the floor.

‘YES!’

‘You are to pay a fine to the state treasury of . . .’ He conferred with Lentulus. ‘. . . five hundred thousand denarii.’

‘Don’t forget his penance before the gods,’ said a voice.

Longinus lifted his head. ‘It will be the first thing I do when I leave the Curia. I thank my fellow senators for their clemency. I will continue to serve the Republic in every way that I can.’ Undoing the red belt that signified his status as a general, he let it fall at the consuls’ feet. He saluted them, and then, without looking to either side, walked proudly from the room.

An audible sigh rose up from the gathered politicians.

‘And so to the real issue of the day,’ whispered Crassus to Caesar.

‘What to do about Spartacus.’

‘Precisely. The consuls must also be made to pay for Longinus’ failure. The poor choices that he made reflect upon them as leaders of the Republic.’

‘Do you think that this is the time to make our move?’

Our
move, thought Crassus with some satisfaction.
Caesar is definitely with me.
He glanced around, trying to gauge the mood. ‘I’m not sure. Let’s hound them for a little bit and see what happens.’

Fasces clattered on the floor, interrupting their conversation.

‘Longinus’ news may have been catastrophic, but it only firms our resolve. Rome does not take defeat lying down,’ Lentulus announced in a confident voice.

‘The slave Spartacus and his followers must be brought to bay and defeated once and for all,’ added Gellius.

‘Defeated!’ yelled a voice. ‘Rome must be victorious!’

‘Victorious! Victorious!’ shouted the senators.

The consuls gave each other a pleased look. The tide of anger against them seemed to be turning.

‘And who precisely will lead the Republic’s legions to victory?’ Crassus’ loud question cut through the clamour like a hot knife through cheese. Silence descended. He cast a scornful glance at the consuls. ‘You are the elected consuls, the most senior magistrates in the land. I honour your positions, but I am no longer inclined to support you in this war.’ He looked around, smiling at the senators’ shock. ‘Yes, this
is
now a war. Should we support two men who have already been convincingly beaten by Spartacus? Who have lost no fewer than four silver eagles between them? Who have made Rome the laughing stock of the Mediterranean? I say that to do so would be to imperil our very Republic.’

‘What are you suggesting, Crassus?’ bellowed Lentulus. ‘Are you wishing to seize power, as Sulla did?’

Suddenly, Crassus felt the weight of hundreds of pairs of eyes upon him. He cursed inside. Had he misjudged the senators’ mood? ‘I—’

Lentulus gave him no time to finish. ‘Didn’t you do well enough out of Sulla’s proscriptions?’

Laughter broke out at once. Crassus glared, but he had lost the initiative.

‘Are you not rich and greedy enough already? Let us not forget how you preyed like a vulture on those who fell foul of “the Butcher”. As a consequence, your riches are immense, but they are also stained with blood,’ said Lentulus loudly.

‘Any purchases that I may have made were entirely legal,’ Crassus declared. But it was too late. Everywhere he looked now, he saw revulsion on his peers’ faces. Even Caesar had moved a step away. ‘They were all legal, I say!’

‘Maybe they were,’ retorted Gellius, ‘but you didn’t see us queuing up to buy those properties!’

Utterly furious, but now powerless, Crassus bit his lip.

In a clever move, the consuls did not address the floor for a few moments. They let the senators’ outrage at Crassus dominate the mood. Then Gellius, who was the better speaker, rose from his chair. He took two steps forward, to the edge of the dais, and waited.

The hubbub abated.

‘Lentulus and I have made our mistakes, but we are still the elected consuls of Rome. Is that not true?’

A low rumble of agreement.

‘And, until recently, we have performed our duties to the satisfaction of the majority, have we not?’

‘You have,’ called out a voice.

No one said another word.

‘For all our faults, we are both possessed of Roman virtus. It is indeed a scandal that Spartacus has defeated so many of our armies. It will
not
happen again! Lentulus and I have brought our legions together. Reinforcements made necessary by our
problems
have been recruited. The remnants of Longinus’ command is to be brought south to join with ours, making a combined force of more than four legions. Auxiliaries are being sought out in Cisalpine Gaul as I speak. Word has been sent to Gaul and Iberia that we need horsemen. In a matter of six to eight weeks, we will have an army that numbers more than thirty thousand men.’

Crassus wasn’t beaten yet. ‘What if Spartacus seeks battle again before that time?’

‘We will meet him on ground of our choosing, and wipe him from the face of the earth. This I swear to Jupiter, Minerva and Mars,’ declared Gellius to loud shouts of approbation.

‘And if, as some suspect, he leaves Italy?’

‘Lentulus will remain here, to raise more legions and to safeguard the Republic. I shall track the slave rabble by land or sea with our armies. He won’t get far. When I find them, I shall destroy them completely. If by some small chance Spartacus reaches Thrace, I can unite with Lucullus’ forces there. Between us, we shall smash him into pieces. Either way, we shall have victory!’

‘Victory!’ cried the senators. ‘Victory!’

In that moment, Crassus knew that his opportunity had been lost. He wasn’t above laying one more baited trap, however. ‘Very well. You will defeat Spartacus together?’

‘We will,’ the consuls declared.

‘May Jupiter be your witness,’ said Caesar, giving them a pointed stare.

Gellius’ blood was up. ‘May he strike me down if we fail!’

Lentulus looked less than pleased with his colleague’s fervour, but he couldn’t back down either. ‘I make a vow to Jupiter Optimus Maximus that we shall succeed.’

‘Excellent,’ said Crassus with false enthusiasm. ‘The Republic will be triumphant once more!’

The unsuspecting senators were delighted. They cheered and whistled like an excited crowd watching a gladiatorial contest.

Crassus moved closer to Caesar. ‘Thank you for speaking when you did,’ he said from the side of his mouth. ‘Gellius fell into your snare without even noticing.’

Caesar inclined his head in recognition. ‘But Lentulus knows he’s been manoeuvred into a corner. He looks as if he’s swallowed a bowl of hemlock.’

‘What do I care?’ whispered Crassus. ‘If by some miracle the fools succeed, the problem of Spartacus will have been dealt with. If they fail, they will not have a leg to stand on. No general can be defeated twice and stay in office, especially when he has taken a sacred oath in front of six hundred of his fellows.’

‘It was a clever move. You turned the situation around nicely.’

Crassus demurred politely, but inside he was exultant. If anything, what had transpired was better than if he’d achieved his aims that day. The legions in Italy were shrunken, battered and demoralised. Taking charge of them and attempting to defeat Spartacus would be to risk disaster.

This way, he had all eventualities covered and now he would have time to continue planning his best course of action. One thing was certain, thought Crassus. The Republic needed more soldiers than it currently had on its home territory. Pompey had a good number of legions in Iberia. So too did Lucullus, in Pontus. If either man were recalled to defend the Republic, they would not hand over the command of their troops to anyone. They would want all the glory.
The glory that should be mine.
Crassus decided at once to talk to Caepio, the sole survivor of Spartacus’ munus. He would provide a strong rallying point for any legions Crassus might raise. Men would flock to serve under him.

Crassus’ mind tracked back to the time he had fought for Sulla. Many of the soldiers who had fought for the Butcher in the civil war would still be alive, tending the little plots of land that had been granted to them upon their discharge. Sulla had known well that nothing made a veteran of twenty years’ service happier than to receive exactly what he’d been promised on the day of his enlistment. Crassus thought of Pompey, and scowled.
That prick is good at honouring his soldiers’ discharge, just as Sulla was.
If the truth be known, he hadn’t done as well by his legionaries in the past, but fortunately there hadn’t been that many of them. Sulla’s, on the other hand, numbered in their thousands.
They will remember me, the man who won the battle of the Colline Gate, the man who was Sulla’s loyal captain.
A popular saying came to mind, making him smile. ‘Everyone who has a soldier’s heart remains a soldier, even if his body has grown old,’ Crassus said softly. ‘Nor will they refuse the handsome wages I offer.’

It was time to set Saenius another task. His major domo had done much already to try and recruit spies within the slave army, but the day’s developments meant that there was plenty more to be done. Raising new legions took time, and although he didn’t yet have the jurisdiction to do so, Crassus was sure that he could implement the first steps of the lengthy process. With a decent number of veterans, he would have a nucleus around which he could build an army when the time came.

Crassus knew in his bones that the consuls would soon meet Spartacus in battle. Nothing that he had seen today told him anything other than Lentulus and Gellius would lose. When they did, he would seize his chance.

We will meet again, Spartacus, thought Crassus. This time, you will learn the lesson that I should have taught you the first time we met. We Romans have no equals, and you are nothing but a savage. A talented, intelligent savage, perhaps, but a savage nonetheless. When your army has finally been ground into dust and you are choking out your last breath, you will understand that.

How I look forward to that day. I will take the credit for saving the Republic, and the masses will love me – for saving their lives and their livelihoods. That upstart Pompey can forget being the most popular man in Rome. In taverns and shops, on every street corner, the citizens will talk of no one but Crassus. My fame assured, I will be held in the same regard as men such as Sulla and Marius – for ever.

Chapter VI

Near the foot of the Alps, Cisalpine Gaul

ARIADNE WOKE WITH
a headache. Stretching, she felt a crick in her neck as well. She sighed. Her poor sleep hadn’t just been because of the baby’s activity. Her rest had not been helped by a never-ending, hideous nightmare, in which she could not find Spartacus on a road that had been decorated with a crucified man every forty paces. It was a huge relief to see him breathing heavily alongside her. She studied his features in a concerted effort to forget the gory images of the dream. It worked. With the tip of a finger, she traced the faint scar that ran off his straight nose on to his left cheek. She touched his square, determined jaw and his brown hair, close-cropped in the Roman military fashion. Ariadne was admiring his well-muscled, wiry torso when he gave a violent twitch and muttered something. At once her enjoyment soured.

Judging by the way he’d moved about all night, he had not slept well either. She wondered what had caused his unease.
I’ll ask him when he wakes.
She herself had long since given up trying to rest. Despite her weariness, she was determined to be cheerful. This was the day that she had longed for since their remarkable escape from the ludus in Capua. Back then, it had been an impossible hope. Yet against all likelihood, her husband’s soldiers had defeated every Roman army that had been sent against them since. Now Mutina lay some twenty miles to their rear, the legions that had garrisoned it broken and scattered to the four winds. No battle-ready enemy troops remained in the area. The previous day, their army had crossed the bridge over the River Padus. Their path lay wide open.

Ariadne had to feast her eyes on the wondrous sight again. She unlaced the tent flap and looked out. At last a smile crept on to her face. She hadn’t imagined it. Towering before her, from west to east in an immense, unbroken stony wall, were the Alps. All we have to do, she thought, is cross those peaks, and we’ll be free. For ever. Why, then, did she have a knot of worry clenched in her gut? An old saying came to her: Many’s the slip between the cup and the lip.
I won’t be happy until we have actually reached the other side of the mountains.

‘Checking they’re still there?’ Spartacus’ voice came from behind her.

She pulled her head inside the tent. ‘You’re awake.’

‘Yes. Well, have they vanished?’

She punched him lightly on the arm. ‘You’re making fun of me.’

‘Just a little. I want to see them too.’ He threw off his blankets and crawled to the entrance. He was quiet for a moment. Then, ‘Thank the Rider. I didn’t dream them up. We really are beyond the reach of any legionaries in Italy.’ In Italy, he thought darkly. What about Thrace? A wild land that most of my soldiers have only heard of in tales. Will they want to go there – to face more legions? Or will they refuse? If that happened, Spartacus was aware that he did not want to be a general without an army.