Читать книгу Spartacus - J. Leslie Mitchell - Страница 14

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A German posted on the outlying hills by Gannicus, the sentry came striding through the squatting slaves. With him came two men, small men and dark in the Celtic way, clad in short linen tunics. They were clad in the armour of mirmillones, with images of fish on their iron helmets, and decorated leg-sheaths shielding their knees. Those of the slave-host who had escaped the school of Batiates stared at the newcomers and their shameful armour. For since the route of Clodius all the Gladiators had flung away their arena weapons and re-armed themselves as legionaries.

Spartacus sat staring blindly, intently south, seeing nothing of the approach of the sentry. A German and a mines-slave, the latter halted in front of the seated strategoi and addressed only Gannicus.

‘These Gauls say they’ve come from Capua and that they have been Gladiators.’ He sneered. Myself, I believe they’ve been bed-men.’

Gannicus laughed, surveying the small men without pleasure, for his humour was evil. ‘Where did you steal the arena gear?’ he asked, jeeringly.

The younger of the two Celts, slight and dark and mild of face, had long lashes drooping like a woman’s over mild eyes. He looked through those lashes at Gannicus and stroked his chin.

‘Where Gannicus won his palms—when his adversary stumbled. In the arena. I’ve watched you there at Rome with net and trident, and wished for you as opponent. For I’m a timid man who desires to live long.’

‘You Gaulish swine——’

The little Gladiator held up a mocking hand. ‘Now you’re angry. Yet this sentry tells me you’re a strategos, a word for a captain, I believe. An ill choice, for I see you’re a man of little wisdom.’ His eyes strayed to the silent Spartacus. He suddenly saluted. ‘Thracian, we heard of you and came to join you.’ The banter came into his voice again. ‘And for reward we seem like to be killed and, for all I know, roasted and eaten by a red-headed Teutone.’

A smile came seldom enough on the thick lips of Spartacus. It came now. Crixus watched it come, and relaxed that watchful tension his banter had barely concealed.

‘We were mirmillones, Crixus and Oenomaus.’

‘You are welcome. I was a Threce, Spartacus.’

‘Now I know we are really free, Oenomaus. All the way in the ditches and thickets that line the road from Capua I’ve sworn it a dream; once I frightened a flock of goats half-way over Campania when I pricked myself with my gladius in order that I might wake.’ He explained to the blank stare of Spartacus. ‘We were at Rome and heard nothing till we were brought back to Capua and the school of Batiates. There they told us the news and how it was now impossible to escape, such precautions were taken. So Oenomaus and I, one misty morning, gained by stealth the rooms of Batiates himself, and forced him at the dagger-point to lead us out by a private gate. Or at least Oenomaus forced him, for I hung back, fearing strong men with beards. Then we hid in a wine-cart that was making out from Capua, and so escaped the city. For the rest, we’ve wandered and hid and fared ill till this morning when we came on three scouts of Furius, the legate of Varinus. Two of those scouts we slew by stealth; the third we put to the question. From him we heard of Clodius’ rout, and that Publius Varinus, the new praetor, has been sent south by the Senate, with a legion and a half, to eat up and excrete all the rebel slaves in Italy. So we tied this third scout to a tree and came away. Then we fell in with this German and prevailed on him not to eat us, though as yet we’re untried men and he a veteran.’

But Castus was on his feet. ‘Masters? How far away is this legion and a half?’

‘Four leagues, I’d say, or less.’