Spartacus

by Robert Southworth

‘This man learns quickly,’ Spartacus said, with a rueful look as he dressed a small cut on his forearm.

  ‘Yes…pity that, and I would prefer it if you did not throw yourself into every fight.’ Cassian replied, but even as he said it he knew it a forlorn hope, Spartacus was not the type of man to stay in the background as others died.

  The enemy started to fan out, circling the building looking for an easy way in. With the numbers within the building so low it would be difficult to defend everywhere at once. Once again the charge order went up and the enemy swarmed towards the building. This time the missiles had less effect, with the volleys not being concentrated in one area but scattered trying to defend the building on all sides. The enemy pressed and the defenders threw them back as best they could.

  At one stage the enemy gained ground on the upper tier but Aegis and a small group who had been held in reserve valiantly charged. Aegis roared like a demon and hurled himself at his foe. All the enemy fell, smashed like kindling by a mighty axe, but men were dying on both sides and Spartacus knew they could not last if things remained the same. That attack failed and the next and the two following that, but the defenders were being worn down. It was relief when they heard Apelios pull his men back on the final attack, and it seemed, for the time being, the fighting was over for the enemy began to make camp. Food and wine were brought from one of Apelios’ many households, the enemy revelling in the fact that the defenders were so low in number, for when the sun rose it was evident the warehouse would fall.

  ‘Why do they stop attacking?’ Cassian asked Spartacus, but it was Aegis who answered.

  ‘The leader knew his men were close to breaking, too many comrades had fallen. He will fill their bellies with food and good wine, then their heads with tales of a vast fortune and then, come the morning, they will charge like devils once again.’ As he spoke Aegis looked around at the dead and dying, few had come through the ordeal without damage, even Cassian nursed a badly swollen lip. Spartacus had joked he must have tripped over his tunic but he took it in good spirits.

  ‘Then when the morning comes, let us hope…’ Cassian never finished the sentence as a shout came from outside. It was Apelios, with a figure at his feet. It was difficult to see who, as darkness had swept down and only torches lit the place in which the sprawled figure lay.

  ‘I have a gift for you Cassian, something for you and your men to think on – until the sun rises that is.’ He turned and walked away. However, two of his men lifted the figure and brought it closer to the warehouse, before nervously skitting away to join their leader. Before Cassian could stop him, Spartacus leapt over the barricade and hefted the figure to his shoulder and returned to the relative safety of the warehouse.

  It took some time to recognise the figure, so beaten were his features, but to everyone's amazement it spoke.

  ‘A glass of wine would go down well.’ The words only just audible.

  ‘Trabus,’ Cassian cried, ‘What…?’ he began, but a bloodied hand rose to stem his questions.

  ‘Cassian, let me speak for I fear I do not have long. The plan is still in place, I was taken after I got my family out.’ Trabus struggled to catch his breath.

  ‘Do not worry about that, you need rest my friend.’ Cassian held the head of his battered friend, as he gazed down at him he knew it would not be long. Apelios’ men had done their work well, Trabus’ body had been broken and shattered, the only miracle was that he still lived.

  ‘My family have been sent to Albus, please… ‘ Trabus struggled. Cassian interceded.

  ‘They will want for nothing my friend, they will be as my own family.’

  A pained smile crossed the distorted face of Trabus.

  ‘Thank you my boy.’ Trabus seemed to drift but continued to speak. ‘Did I ever tell you about me and your father…?’ Trabus spoke more.

  ‘Trabus…Trabus, old friend.’

  Spartacus closed the old man's eyes and looked around. So many dead and yet this loss seemed the hardest to take. He could feel the sadness descend upon the men and knew that the fight was lost. The next time the enemy came they would rip this place apart and all here would die. Trabus would have company on his final voyage.

  Chapter 12

  Spartacus and Cassian jerked upright. They had somehow managed a couple of hours sleep but now were aware of shouts coming from the enemy's camp. They rushed towards the main door. Lots of movement from outside made Spartacus shout to his men, trying to put some spark back into their weary bodies. He glanced over to Cassian who was straining to see what was happening.

  ‘Well it won't be long now. Let's see how many of them we can take with us,’ Spartacus growled.

  ‘Look,’ Cassian replied, pointing towards the east, ‘and there,’ pointing over Spartacus’ shoulder.

  ‘By all the Gods, Cassian they did it. Trabus’ men, they did it!’ He cast his eyes down at old Trabus and felt the old man did not deserve to be laid to rest in an old dusty warehouse. Cassian, reading his thoughts, said.

  ‘We will take him with us, his family can pay their respects at Albus’ villa.’

  ‘I think first we need to get out of here. We best make ready.’ Spartacus strode off to make the arrangements.

  Cassian stood watching his enemy, their blind panic evident. He smiled to himself. Apelios was bound to be distraught. If he stayed then he risked losing everything. Cassian could see the now four fires raging in the port, all of which he would guarantee were the property of Apelios including his very own headquarters. If Apelios left to deal with the fires then he lost out on the chance to claim the wagons and whatever prize they hid. He guessed he was going to be an extremely angry man indeed.

  Apelios could not believe it, he watched the flames destroying what he had spent so long building up. He glanced back at the warehouse and asked himself what wealth did it conceal? He did not think for too long, he had to protect what he had. The arrogant Roman could wait, but he vowed to himself, if it killed him, he would have a reckoning with that bastard.

  He dispatched men to the various fires but told four men to stay behind and watch the warehouse while he himself took the largest group and headed off to his headquarters. With each step his resolve strengthened to take revenge upon Cassian. He did not know how he had managed to get by his scouts and put a torch to his property. He then thought of the old man, Trabus, who he had not bothered to question. He had thought the old man to be just looking out for himself and trying to escape the troubles. He swore and cursed his own stupidity and picked up the pace, for now his concerns were more pressing. A part of him, the cautious part which lay buried mostly dormant in the past few years, warned him of re-igniting the feud with Cassian and the tall stranger he had observed at the door, for the thought of the man made him uneasy. He had no wish to meet the man's gaze again.

  The four guards settled down, happy at the ease of their task. They did not even bother to watch all the sides of the warehouse, surely the men inside were so battle scarred they offered no threat? Three of them curled up around the dying embers of the makeshift fire, whilst the fourth sat slumped, his back against a fence, his eyes observing the main entrance to the warehouse. For a short time his good intentions held him to his job, ensuring nobody left the warehouse but, as the exertions of the previous night's battle wore down his resistance, he too slipped into slumber, blissfully unaware of the danger he faced.

  The figure had taken his time working his way around from the back of the warehouse just to be sure no trap had been set. He moved quickly to the first guard already lost in a world of his own. He hardly stirred before he died, and had no opportunity to warn his comrades. The figure moved quickly and efficiently to the next man, all the time checking the surrounding area for concealed enemy. There were none and he continued his work.

  Spartacus held his victim and drew the knife quietly across the man's throat. He was the last of the four, but that did not mean Apelios didn't have friends close by, so he killed quickly and effi
ciently. It was important that no lookouts got away. The wagons needed to move as quickly as possible and, hopefully, they would be long gone before those that mattered became aware of it.

  The wagons were loaded inside the warehouse, every attempt being made to conceal their intentions to leave. The men covered the heavy wheels with animal skins to soften the noise they made and they removed their armour. With the dead and badly wounded taken out of the equation it meant just eight fit men to drive the three wagons and indeed to defend against attack. The lack of numbers was an issue, they needed six good men for the upcoming tournament. At this rate they would not be able to fill the quota. Of those that were able to fight all needed serious rest, many sported minor injuries which, if left untreated, could become far worse. Spartacus had seen many a good man felled by what seemed, at first, a trivial injury. He glanced over at Plinius. The boy had fought well and had even stopped Aegis from being gutted up on the second tier. Any problems the boy suffered in times of peace seemed to dispel when the battle horn sounded. He smiled, he had heard himself described the same way.

  The wagons moved away. The men, still weary from the previous night's exertions, tried their best to be alert to attack, but all knew that if one came the chances of survival were little. Aegis stayed behind. He was to set the warehouse alight when the wagons had moved away a safe distance. Cassian was determined that Apelios be left nothing for his troubles, and all believed that the fallen friends within the warehouse deserved a decent funeral pyre and did not want the enemy to disrespect the bodies in any way.

  Cassian climbed aboard the wagon next to Spartacus and for a while both sat in silence, each only raising their heads at the occasional noises which disturbed the silence. A startled rabbit broke cover and skitted around looking for a safe place to hide.

  ‘The men fought well,’ Cassian said tiredly.

  ‘Never seen Romans fight so well as a team and as individuals, as they did last night,’ Spartacus replied.

  ‘We lost some good men; Trabus, Marius, Matro, all good men.’ Cassian's voice trailed away as he listed the names.

  ‘Battle cares not of the quality of a man – it takes as it sees fit.’ Spartacus knew Cassian had seen his first real battle the night before, and he also knew what the man was feeling was guilt. The guilt of all leaders who had lost men in their command.

  ‘When dealing with my peers in Rome many of them yearned for battle, eager for the glory of the thing.’ Cassian shook his head as he spoke the words, ‘if only I could tell them the true nature of the beast.’

  ‘Even then they would still wish for it, for until you experience such an ordeal the mystique and glory dims any argument put forward. Cassian, do not reproach yourself for those who have been lost. Honour them yes, but do not let them weigh heavily upon your heart. For to do so will prevent you making the necessary decisions in the future which need to be made. Besides, though it pains me to say it, we need you.’

  ‘Spartacus, I fear you begin to read my spirit like parchment. Can I hide nothing from you?’ Cassian attempted a small smile.

  ‘In part. I have grown to know you Cassian but I know how you feel because it is what all sane men feel when the battle is over and the mind reflects on such horrors. I was still a boy when I killed my first enemy, and not much older when I lost the first man under my command. To this day I see their faces when I close my eyes, eventually they begin to pale as terrors and you must treat them as old friends who accompany you along the long road.’ Spartacus spoke with such solemnity it shocked Cassian. The silence descended upon the two once more, each lost within the thoughts of their own minds.

  The time and the convoy moved ever on. There were nervous glances, endless looking back towards Caralis in fear of an enemy desiring retribution and swift destruction, but none came. Then an extra glow could be seen in the port. Obviously Aegis had done his work well. If Apelios became aware of the fire he would know his prey had slipped the trap, but Cassian knew sufficient time had passed and they would reach the relative safety of Albus’ villa.

  Cassian said a private, short prayer to the Gods for a friend lost and for those valiant men who had served him so well. He hoped the choices he made were the correct ones, but decided there and then to banish regrets and would no longer look along the path they had taken, but only that which they must still journey upon. He spurred the wagons to move faster. He was keen to reach the villa. More plans must be made and there was still much to do. It was with a joyous heart when, finally, the villa came into view. Aegis joined the wagons shortly before they entered the villa. He gave reports that no more of Apelios’ men had ventured towards the warehouse. All were too busy with the fires that had been lit, and no enemy had followed him or the wagons from the port. He did bring news that two of the buildings razed by Trabus had been totally destroyed, but, as far as he could tell, the rest including the headquarters had been saved. Therefore Apelios would still have power to yield within Caralis and still posed a serious threat to the mission.

  Cassian grimaced at the thought of Apelios, still capable of causing them harm. After all they would still have to make the return journey once the men were rested and trained to take part in the most vital stage of the mission. Aegis also brought with him two men who helped Trabus in burning Apelios’ property. It was perhaps a mark of their respect for their previous master, the clear sadness they showed upon hearing of his death. Cassian offered them the choice of joining the convoy and serving with the rest of the men or serving the family of Trabus. He would not accept an answer immediately for it was not the time for hasty decisions.

  The wagons rolled through the large wooden gates of the villa and it was immediately obvious why Albus had no problem with men such as Apelios. The walled villa was guarded with a high proportion of men, all of which looked capable of doing an extremely professional job. The inside of the villa courtyard was functional, not at all like the fine villa of Crannicus, although to be fair few came up to that standard. Inside a sinewy, tall figure held up his arm in acknowledgement of Cassian's arrival. The man had a gaze that could freeze a stallion in mid gallop. His shoulders were strong and straight, with his chest pushed out. It was clear this was a man of military background and the guards on the walls seemed to echo the man's character, for they moved quickly and efficiently in any task asked of them.

  ‘I did not know whether you would make it through Cassian. Larger groups than yours have fallen to those within the port.’ He spoke with a knowing, confident voice.

  ‘Many of us didn't make it,’ Cassian replied, gesturing to the wrapped body in one of the wagons.

  ‘Who?’ Said Albus.

  ‘I am sorry Albus, it's Trabus. I did not want to leave his body behind and I will need to speak to his family.’ Cassian was sorry for he knew Trabus and Albus had dealings with one another over many years. There was a slight flicker in the eyes of Albus as he observed his friend's body, but the military training kicked in almost immediately.

  ‘Of course. They dine down by the orchard, I will send for them immediately.’ Albus made to call a guard but was stopped by Cassian.

  ‘If you would allow, I will go and break the news. Better they hear before they see the body and, if you would be so kind, Albus my men have endured much I would be grateful if their needs be fulfilled.’

  ‘Of course Cassian, forgive me I will see to it immediately.’

  Albus, despite being a man of military background, showed a great deal of respect and consideration to the men of Cassian, even helping a couple of the injured from a wagon. Cassian strode away from the wagons and out of sight. Spartacus did not envy the young Roman this task and believed it easier to take life than to inform the loved ones of one that has been lost. He had only had the dreadful task once and the terrible, hollow scream of grief had haunted him for many weeks after the deed. The thought of it even now made his insides churn. He climbed down from the wagon himself, his muscles crying out their tiredness. He wished for nothing m
ore than to bathe and sleep. As he looked at his men, their bodies covered in blood from the battle and the dirt from the road, it was almost impossible to tell which was which. They stared blankly and hardly moved, resembling the statues within the gardens at Crannicus’ villa. He would need all his skill to reinvigorate these men for the remainder of this mission, they seemed as shadows lost in thoughts of the past.

  What was left of Trabus’ household were dining down by the stream. For a moment fear tugged at Cassian, for he had been a young boy the last time he had seen Trabus’ wife Celese. Although the memory of how kind she was stayed with him, her face had vanished completely from his mind. It would be unforgiveable to have to ask which person she was. As the fear raced through him he heard a gentle voice, a voice which conjured up memories from the past. He remembered falling as a little boy and a sweet voice soothing his pain, then a warm hug and kisses, the memory of which still filled him with warmth. He turned to the voice which reminded him of those pleasant times and he knew the woman. As he approached her she turned to meet his gaze.

  ‘Ah I know that little boy, it has been too long young Cassian.’

  ‘Much too long Celese, I wish…’ His words failed him, how could he deliver such news to such a gentle spirit.

  ‘Now I will not have to dry your tears again Cassian. Let my heart cry enough for both of us and you have no need to utter the words, for my heart told me of my loss. I knew that my husband may not return but I feel honoured that I had him in my life for so long.’ As she spoke she placed a gentle hand against Cassian's cheek, genuine concern for the boy she had not seen in many years. Cassian, for his part, was truly astonished that at a time like this Celese still cared for others.

  ‘He was a good man.’ The words seemed too small for what Cassian wanted to say, for a man so normally gifted and eloquent in his speech.

  ‘He was.’ That was all she replied, for her it was the complete story and nobody could sum up her Trabus any better.