As the sun rose the following morning, Cassian and Spartacus stood on the balcony gazing across the city. It was quiet now, it was amazing how much people could drink when the cost did not hit their own purse. Bodies could be seen in the streets, however these were not the bodies of the dead but bodies of the drunk. A single man could walk amongst them and steal everything they owned and all he would get for his trouble would be the groans of drunkenness. Cassian sometimes struggled to believe the depravity of people, their thirst for blood, coin, wine and sex made fools of most of them.
‘So our mission is over,’ Spartacus stated.
‘Our part is but not the mission as a whole. You see the horizon there?’ Cassian pointed out to sea where a few small sails began to appear.
‘Yes,’ Spartacus replied, he was in no mood for idle chatter.
‘Well, soon it will be filled with a Roman fleet,’ Cassian said pointedly.
‘But why? Dido has lost his power.’ Spartacus wondered why bother.
‘Dido is an example of the type of man who can rise to power in a place like this, because of the pirates and men that use this place as a base,’ Cassian instructed.
‘So, you will destroy the place?’ Spartacus replied.
‘No, not at all. There are, within those streets as many as a couple of thousand pirates sleeping, within that dock hundreds of vessels which usually disrupt Roman trading at every given moment.’
‘That's why you told Lathyrus to stay away from the docks,’ Spartacus said, amazed at the forward thinking of the man.
‘It is. Soon the docks will burn and Roman marines will enter the city. In one swoop most of the danger to legal trade in this area will be swept away.’ As Cassian spoke he struggled to hide his pride at succeeding in the plan but a thought caught him and, within his mind, just a little voice whispered, ‘but at what cost?’
They were joined by the other men. All watched on the balcony as the first of the Roman triremes ploughed into the vessels which stood at anchor in the dock. The smashing timbers could be heard across the city and the noise roused a number of its sleeping population. They raced through the city to behold the stuff of nightmares, especially for those who made their living on those boats. Some even managed to join their vessels, only to be consigned to the depths along with them. Greek fire sent some to the watery grave, others were just run down by the huge ram on the front of triremes, which turned the once proud vessels to fire wood. Interestingly Spartacus noticed many of the boats could have been taken without sinking but it was clear this was a mission of destruction. Everything pirate would go to the bottom of the sea.
For much of the day more and more boats burned or were smashed to pieces. Every now and then an occasional vessel would escape its mooring and slip past the great barrier that was the Roman fleet. Bodies could be clearly seen drifting in the harbour waters. Only the night before those same bodies were having the time of their lives on wine provided by Cassian. Little did they know that wine was the road to the afterlife and the final voyage they would take.
The day was beginning to lose its light as the first of the Roman triremes began to deposit the marines onto the dock. A few unwise pirates had decided to make a stand. Although the marines were in no way comparable to the regular legions of Rome they were still efficient in killing and the pirates were swept aside with little or no trouble. A defendable position was established by the initial marines, which enabled more and more to pour from the boats into the port area of Utica. They moved relentlessly through the city streets, all that tried to stop them fell beneath sword and boot. The spectacle resembled a plague of locust making its way through a prized harvest, leaving only destruction in its path.
A larger trireme pulled into the docks and it too spilled out marines but also a figure came ashore, his bright white tunic standing out against the drab exterior now made even more so by the smoke drifting over the city as more pirate boats burned. In such a short time a bustling, if not entirely honest city, had become a ghost town. Those pirates still ashore headed away from the sea to seek sanctuary in the hills, while the inhabitants of Utica shut themselves away in their homes and hoped the heavy boots of Rome would not come calling.
The day came and went, with order being restored gradually throughout the city. Come the morning Cassian received a guest, who praised Cassian beyond all measure.
‘What you have done here is truly amazing. I doubt a Roman legion could have done the job better.’ His name was Critilo, a true Roman diplomat, steeped in its tradition and politics but deeply in debt to the man Cassian served. ‘He hoped to be here himself of course but he felt it necessary to stay in Rome to prevent Crassus becoming too curious. It was truly a master stroke to get this amount of triremes and men out to sea without that old dog noticing.’
‘I am sure we will have plenty of time to catch up but, for now, I suggest you come and meet the men who made it possible,’ Cassian said, eager to share the glory around.
‘Delighted to.’ The two strode over towards the men who, in return, stood to greet the man.
Critilo looked around at the men.
‘So few left, I understand you began with over thirty men.’
‘We have lost many good men along the way, mostly in Caralis, but all along the road we made sacrifice.’ Cassian spoke with a heavy heart but he resolutely introduced those that remained. Critilo studied Spartacus for quite some time before vigorously shaking him by the hand. He seemed in true awe of the gladiator.
‘Of course I had heard of the legend, but never believed I would actually meet you.’ Critilo was like a young boy given a pony. Spartacus was taken aback by the greeting, he expected nothing but resentment from a Roman.
‘Ermm…thank you, it's nice to meet you.’ Cassian erupted into laughter.
‘You will have to excuse Critilo, he is a keen student of history and you are somewhat of a celebrity to him. I'm sure once he gets to know you, the shine will go off it.’
‘Bollocks,’ Spartacus replied, but in good humour.
‘So,’ Critilo asked, ‘what now for you all? Will you go and spend all that wealth? I'm sure Cassian here could still use your services.’ Cassian held up his hand to steady his friend.
‘They, if they want to that is, will return to my villa where they will rest and then, and only then, will they make such decisions. I feel in need of a little relaxation myself, besides I am keen to spend time with my family.’
‘Of course. Of course. Well I must leave you, important business in the port but please, if you require assistance do not hesitate, I am your servant,’ Critilo was up and gone in a moment.
‘Is he for real? He's like a bloody whirlwind,’ Bull remarked.
‘Don't let the exterior fool you, he's got a very sharp mind. I will wager he will have Utica running perfectly within no time at all.’ Cassian thought to himself; lucky bastard to have a nice administration job now the tough work has been done. Somewhere to work and be close to family. He suddenly felt tired, wanting his family close and a chance to sleep in his own bed with his love next to him.
The sun rose and fell across the port of Utica many times before Cassian was fit enough to undertake the long journey back home, first calling at Caralis. Spartacus had made promises to Plinius and Cassian would not be the reason they were broken. The men who chose to leave with Cassian were Bull, Aegis and, of course, Spartacus. The others had seen the possibilities in Utica now trade wasn't governed by one man and, with more than a little help from the now governor of the region, they stood to make a lot of money. Joining the now very small group was Melachus. His mother had passed away the same night Dido came to his most unfortunate end and Cassian believed they owed the man something. Postus also tagged along. He yearned for excitement after guarding the lavish home of his former master. Cassian had only been too keen to offer the man a place in the group.
‘Of course! If it's excitement you require I'm sure I can accommodate you,’ he laughed.
; The small grouped journeyed through the streets of Utica. It had begun to gather its momentum again, soon it would be a bustling city port, with traders from all over the known world visiting, no longer afraid of the pirates who terrorised them on previous visits. They were glad to leave. Utica had gathered too many ghosts and they would leave for happier lands and hopefully a peace which young and old warriors crave for most of their lives, with few ever really attaining the desired goal.
The familiar black sail drew closer with the huge figure of Lathyrus standing close to the rail, his hand aloft in salute to the warriors. They acknowledged him but could not raise the cheer which would have been usual when the craft which would take warriors home arrived. Lathyrus recognised the look of the men and toned down his usual exuberance, at least for the time being.
It took time to load men and armour, though thankfully the wagons would stay behind. Each man carried plenty of coin upon them, but the majority would stay in the safe hands of Critilo. Cassian had given assurances of its safety. A small chest was delivered to Lathyrus to be shared amongst his men, his eyes lighting up as he spied the wealth inside. The vessel slipped its mooring and, with the passing of time, the once great port of Utica began to fade into the horizon.
Chapter 25
The voyage seemed to take an age. There existed a vacant hole in the heart of each of the men despite the mission's success and wealth few had dared imagine. The completion of the mission had left an empty feeling, the determination it had required from all to complete was suddenly gone and, for the moment at least, none could fathom what to replace that determination with. Coupled with the loss of so many brave comrades it was a sullen voyage indeed. Lathyrus, as was his way, persisted in trying to raise the mood with crude jokes and even cruder sea songs but even he surrendered in the end. The battle he waged could not be won. He also felt a trespasser upon their grief for, although he had played a major role in the mission, he had not been there in the most dangerous times and the coin he received somehow felt dirty and undeserved. Through the voyage he took to watching his passengers while away the hours, simply gazing over the rail back towards Utica long since removed from the horizon. The strong gales and rain never prevented them, for they stood like great statues, forever in deep reflection and never deflected from their thoughts. It was not until the port of Caralis was sighted that they arose from their mental slumber.
Spartacus sighed to himself. The news he would have to deliver to Chia weighed heavily on his spirits. He had no wish to bring torment to the girl. Since the night he had so nearly gutted Aegis for his harsh words he had steered well clear of any conversation concerning Plinius, but it would seem this would be a conversation that he must undertake. Even as he thought of Plinius his insides squirmed uneasily and every hair upon his body stood to attention, as if searching for a calming breeze which would massage their master's spirit, which still screamed its anger at the unjust world.
It was not long before the small group of men were trooping through the streets of Caralis once again, though the change that had been brought about in such a small space of time was truly remarkable. The dregs of society were still there but, like most busy sea ports, they had retreated from view to occupy the dark alleys and to all but the untrained eye they were hidden. It was necessary, if Caralis was to attract the wealthy merchants from around the trading world, its image must portray that of a prosperous and flourishing place of business. A place unsullied by the crime and dirt that affected so many of the places which had known success before being conquered. Its new master was now ensuring it was policed in the right manner.
They paused at the once headquarters of the despot Apelios. The building itself still stood proud and ominous but now it was Albus’ men who secured the main entrance. When Cassian questioned one of those men he was informed Albus was at his villa, for the administration of the island had tested the former military man's nerves. Cassian could understand why, for even he felt it tiresome dealing with quarrelling merchants and he had years of experience, whereas Albus was a military man, used to settling disputes with a gladius. But this was a new world Albus had entered, one where charm, intelligence and sleight of hand were the weapons of choice, where a purse of coin or well aimed flattery succeeded where a thousand armed soldiers could not.
As Albus was not within the port they decided to move directly to his villa which stood half a day's ride to the north. They gathered a few provisions and purchased some quality mounts which would speed their journey along, for they had no wish to amble along as they did the first time they had made the journey, with heavy wagon and oxen hindering any attempt to make good time.
Only Spartacus feared the speed for, with each step, it brought closer a task of misery and so each step made his mood darken. He had tried thinking of other moments of the mission but they slipped through his mind as sand slips through the fingers, to be replaced by one constant image – that of Plinius lying upon the ground in front of him, a fatal wound in his side and a small trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. Spartacus’ memories would see him clench his huge, strong hands to the mortal wound to try to prevent the blood flowing but, no matter his strength, the dark liquid seeped through his fingers. The boys’ eyes misted and his head lolled, and as the thoughts ended, the anger burst within Spartacus again. Now he would tell the girl, though he would rather face the finest Roman legions with just a dagger than have to bring the girl such misery.
News of their arrival had spread quickly through the villa, though Albus himself sent word he was just completing some important paperwork and would be along presently. The rest of the household came rushing out to greet them, all eager for news of their quest. Spartacus scanned the crowd his eyes almost immediately coming to rest on those of Chia. Her eyes read his immediately and complete understanding happened without a word being uttered. The tears welled in her eyes and her body stiffened but she casually turned from the crowd and walked slowly down the path she and Plinius had so often trodden.
Once down past the orchard, to the place that had been theirs, she threw herself to the grass where they had made love and she sobbed. Spartacus did not follow straight away, he thought it best for her to gather her thoughts and remember Plinius as she wanted. He allowed himself to try and trace the words in his mind of what he wanted to say to her and then, after a short time, he too walked the path to the orchard. It was a debt he felt he owed to Plinius and one from which he would not falter.
‘He loved you very much,’ Spartacus began nervously.
‘Then why did he leave?’ Chia snapped back, her anger at the world evident.
‘Because sometimes a man cannot choose what he wants to do, but must choose what he has to do.’ It sounded foolish as he said it but knew it to be the truth. He remembered having the same conversation with his own beloved.
‘Oh duty, I suppose men make such a thing over duty, but who pays for their duty? – those left behind, that's who!’ Her anger showed no sign of abating.
‘He felt it was his duty, he felt it the right thing to do.’ Spartacus tripped over his words.
‘He wasn't a soldier any more, he owed nothing to Rome, what has it ever done for him?’ She replied.
‘Plinius did not care for Rome. Plinius did this for the men who marched at his side and, I regret, he did it for me but most of all he did this for you and the love he held in his heart for you.’ Spartacus now answered on a surer footing he felt he understood the man Plinius had become.
‘For me? I am a slave,’ she replied and for the first time sadness overtook the anger.
‘Not to him. You were his first love, his only love,’ Spartacus whispered these words with gentility.
Chia looked at him and again began to weep uncontrollably. Spartacus moved to her and placed his huge strong arms about her. He had half expected her to force him away, blaming him for the death of Plinius, but she held him too and, as the sun started to fall, they embraced each other in grief, sharing the sadnes
s they both felt.
Cassian visited Albus in his private study, the latter rising to meet Cassian by the door. As he did so he glanced into the courtyard and observed Cassian's men within it.
‘So few?’ he stated.
‘The Gods’ favour was expensive,’ Cassian replied.
‘Spartacus?’ There was a look of surprise on Albus’ face for he could not believe Spartacus had fallen.
‘No, he has gone to speak to Chia.’ As he spoke the torment was so obvious upon his face Albus guessed the reason why.
‘Ah young Plinius, grave news indeed.’ Albus spoke sullenly but Cassian tried to lighten the mood.
‘But you should have seen him in the arena. He was like a lion, with a skill far advanced of his years,’ he enthused. Albus stood up straight and said with determination.
‘Then he deserves to be honoured as do all that fell.’ He obviously had something in mind to show respect to those that had fallen but first Cassian needed to secure Plinius’ wishes.
‘It is of Plinius I wished to speak and of your slave girl Chia…’ Cassian began.
‘Yes, I know of the young man's promise to Chia,’ Albus replied. For a moment Cassian believed Albus would refuse to grant Chia her freedom.
‘I would gladly pay for the girl, it was the boy's dying wish,’ he added hurriedly to try and sway Albus’ decision.
‘There will be no need for payment. Of course she will have her freedom but, tell me, why this matter weighs so heavily upon you?’ Albus had not seen a commander care for the wishes of his men so clearly as this young Roman. Cassian paused thoughtfully before he answered.
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