The Spartacus Prophecy

The Spartacus Prophecy.

By

R.D. Le Coeur.

Published in 2011

Copyright © Text R.D. Le Coeur.

Smashwords Edition.

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Published by RD Le Coeur

Look for me online at:www.rdlecoeur.net

Originally published in 2009 by YouWriteOn.com/Legend Press. . ISBN 13 9781849239769 10 1849239762

Copyright © Text R. D. Le Coeur

Other books by this Author,

Sunshine & Shadows. (Y/A)

New Shoes.(Humor)

The Vengeance Trilogy (epic fantasy-Vengeance, Troubled Times, Dragon Riders.)

Dragon’s Heart.(Sci-fi)

Belvine-the sequel to Dragon's Heart. (Sci-fi)

Strata Florida-A tale of the holy grail.(medieval historical)

Catcher of the Wry (Collection of short stories)

A Nun's Tale. (12C Historical)

Author’s website

www.rdlecoeur.net

Acknowledgements.

Many thanks to my beta readers and my sons for all their help and support during the writing of this book.

Cover design:© richyroo graphics.

The Spartacus Prophecy

Chapter One

Audentis Fortuna iuvat

Fortune assists the bold-Virgil

Rheggium, Italy 71 BC.

With the thunderous cheering of the army still ringing in his ears, he mounted his warhorse.

He edged the beast to the front and raised his sword to signal advance and all obeyed the call.

This was merely the beginning, as soundless an advance as possible to within a thousand paces of the enemy encampment, which was over a Roman mile away. Obeying previous orders the army slowly took up positions. He signalled a halt, once happy they were all in bustling place.

This was it, he thought, destiny awaited. The sun was slowly rising, a moment more and the future would unfold. He could see the enemy camp awakening to the cacophony of cockerels. The Roman sentries would trumpet the alarm which was also the signal to charge.

Yesterday the heat had been unbearable and he was glad that this dawn’s air was cool to breathe and the light sea mist brought sweet relief to sun parched skin and throat.

He raised his sword and these actions were mirrored by his captains spread out wide along the advancing line to his left. It was now or never, he thought, as the encampment ahead showed more signs of stirring. He closed the visor on his helmet and swung his sword downwards, kicked the beast hard and they were off.

He hated charging with his visor down, he felt claustrophobic balanced on a charging horse. The noise of his own breathing unnerved him along with the drumming noise of the horses hooves as they dug ever deeper into the fabric of the earth.

The enemy was roused and panicking. Now the ever increasing rhythmic beat of hooves resonated within the helm. A tall half armoured man appeared suddenly waving his sword. The warhorse clattered him to the ground and trampled over his twitching body.

On, On, On, he screamed. The ramparts were breached and the enemy was now fully engaged. The roar of battle cries went up from both armies. Metal clanged against metal as brute force and sheer velocity slammed the two armies together. The noise was deafening. Another helmeted face appeared before him. He bludgeoned it by a vicious downward swing of his sword. The impact shuddered up and along his muscled arm. His veins stood proud like vines. The sweat came freely pouring out of his skin now, this time with that acrid sour smell he knew so well. Onwards! he yelled.

He could see his target. His hated foe, surrounded outside his pavilion by tall hardened men, bristling with weaponry. His target and his alone. He hoped the bastard felt fear right down to his toes. The charge had slowed as more and more troops blocked the path of the advancing army. Signal flags fluttered frantically from within the circle surrounding his enemy. I used to be able to read those, he randomly observed. More frantic thrashing with the sword, arms appeared and tried to snag the halter.

Suddenly a forest of spears.

He swore loudly and continued his push for the enemy General. So vicious was his assault on the enemy he had got ahead of his own column. A ballista bolt glanced off his armour, but the impact bruised his shoulder. Another bolt slammed into his horse, then another. The horse thrashed about in agony as did its rider fighting for control. Not far now and he would crash through the enemy defence encircling the enemy General. He could feel the prickling of success surging through his every fibre. ON, ON, ON he screamed. He was now flailing wildly with his sword at everyone and everything.

He would not be denied. Then pain, excruciating pain. A pilum had hit him full force in the thigh. Arrows thudded into his chain mail. More bolts hit his brave steed.

Giddiness. He was falling and thrashing his sword. It was day. It was night. Unbearable pain. He screamed defiance at the world…

***

Bay of Laus. Tyrrhenum Sea, Italy.

He’s coming around, Skyros.

Go fetch the Captain, Timon.

The cabin boy ran all the way to the helm to fetch Captain Constantine to attend his friend. The Dolphin was a new vessel, based on the Phoenician ‘round boat’ and depended principally on sail rather than oars for propulsion. The officers had quarters at the rear of the vessel. Constantine’s was a compact apartment, with a small square window that overlooked the bay. It smelled strongly of new wood and turpentine from the pitch and brine. It was here that the Captain returned alone, somewhat out of breath and keen to see how the patient was doing.

Has he said anything yet, Skyros? asked Constantine.

I’ve given him some water, he was sick and then wanted to know where he was.

General, can you hear me? asked Constantine loudly.

I can hear you, Constantine, but I don’t know how I got here, mumbled the prone body.

Your bodyguard Pontus brought you. We thought you dead, but we could feel a heartbeat and Skyros here has tended many an injured pirate in his time. He saw to your wounds and put on salves where possible. said Constantine.

And, Pontus?

He died from his own wounds earlier today and we buried him. I am sorry to have to tell you this. I know how much you valued him, replied Constantine.

That whore’s son, Crassus! he yelled and tried to move, but the mixture of pain and bandages kept him prostrate on the bunk.

I see you have lost none of your spirit, General Spartacus.

And you none of your overgenerous hospitality, my friend.

Are you well enough to take food?

"Perhaps later. I feel so tired and every bone in my body thinks a cavalry charge has run over it.

From the condition of you on arrival my friend, I think it did. he laughed.

"The battle is lost?

It is. There are not many survivors.

Are we safe, Constantine?

We are on the high seas where Cilicean pirates rule, not Roman dogs. Have no fear General, we are safe.

We will talk more later then. I need to rest.

Spartacus was asleep again before Constantine had left his quarters. Skyros stayed to keep vigil and was ordered to alert Constantine when the General was awake.

Constantine stood at the prow of The Dolphin with the wind blowing in his thick black hair. He liked to come here to think and the ever present breeze across his weather beaten face gave him some kind of inner calm. His mind wandered back to the time he had first met with Spartacus. Seeking profit and the opportunity to strike at the hated Romans he had decided to offer to ship much needed grain to the slave army. He had docked at Genoa and headed, with entourage to meet with the Slave General.

Considering Spartacus’s famed scepticism of all things, they had become fast friends and shared a common hatred of the Romans. Spartacus’s hatred was obvious, Constantine’s was personal. His uncle, with whom he had served his apprenticeship, had been publicly crucified by Gaius Julius Caesar as a warning to all Cilicean pirates, after capturing Caesar and demanding ransom.

Chapter Two

Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas

Lucky is he who has been able to understand the causes of things-Virgil

When Spartacus awoke, it was barely light. He was not certain whether it was dawn or dusk. His mouth felt like he had eaten gravel and his bones ached.

He propped himself up on one elbow and gasped in pain as the blood seeped through the rough poulticed bandage.

He had dreamed whilst asleep these past few hours. Always the same vivid dream since Rome. Did it mean anything he wondered?

After he had been captured for desertion from the Roman Auxiliary, he had been enslaved and taken to Rome. He had fallen in with a fellow Thracian, a woman. A so- called prophetess. It had been an easy relationship. She pretended to be his wife; he relieved his sexual tensions with her. It suited both of them for a while, until they were forcibly split up when he had been sold to the gladiator school in Capua.

Although pleasing on the eye, her devotion to Bacchus often left her bereft of wits and wilful. Her drunken prophecy occurred when Spartacus had been sleeping and a snake had coiled about his face- or so she had said. The snake had not bitten or harmed him in any way. She had told everyone it was an omen of greatness to come, he (Spartacus) would not be happy, but it would all come to no consequence.

As usual with all prophecies it could mean anything, but a nagging suspicion that his life would all end in disaster gnawed at his soul and he was determined for it not to become reality.

Skyros could see the General stirring and asked, Are you well enough to take food, General?

Some broth would be welcome and a little bread if you have it.

I’m to fetch the captain when you are awake, General.

Constantine can wait a little longer until I have eaten. I will need strength to answer all his questions.

Very well, General, he said and left to instruct the cook on the requirements of the ship’s owner.

Instead of the cabin boy, Constantine brought the broth and Spartacus instantly recognised whose orders carried the weight aboard this vessel.

Constantine helped Spartacus into a sitting up position and passed him the broth.

He ate slowly and deliberately, soaking each piece of bread well before putting it into his mouth. No words passed between them until he had finished. Constantine offered wine and this was gratefully accepted with a large splash of fresh water in it. It warmed his insides and fortified his resolve to tell the complete wretched tale of the final battle.

Constantine had met with Spartacus only the day before at Rheggium and received his treasury aboard The Dolphin, he also knew the outline of the strategy for the forthcoming conflict with Crassus, which was why he was anchored here as a failsafe on the west coast.

When you are ready, General. Start at the outset and I will fill in what little I know of the end, courtesy of, Pontus.

My plan was full of guile and should have worked, Constantine. We both knew yesterday that the slaughter would be great on both sides. There was no way of stopping that.

Did you use Adolphus as you planned? asked Constantine.

He rode at the forefront disguised as me, to divert attentions whilst I went straight for Crassus. I missed him by a hair’s breadth and then it all went black.

As I recall, the plan was to smash through Crassus’s lines, kill Crassus and make for Brundesium.

It was and it nearly worked. If only I hadn’t missed the bastard. They would have been in such disarray that the main push from my infantry following the cavalry would have annihilated his command centre and drawn his flanks into our new position, where we would hold the higher ground.

It was your only chance of survival after Crassus walled you in with those earthworks. How he built that, the full breadth of the peninsular, in such a short time is beyond my reckoning. You can sometimes only marvel at Roman engineering. added Constantine before continuing.

The intelligence I gave you yesterday was incorrect. Not that it would have affected the outcome as it happens, but I have now put that situation to rights.

Which piece of intelligence? asked Spartacus.

The escape to Brundesium was never really an option. Unbeknownst to me, General Lucullus has landed with his legions recalled from Thrace. The place is swarming with them and the harbour full of Roman triremes. Word was brought to me too late for me to bring message to you.

There are too many holes in your story for me to follow, Constantine. You’d better fill me in on what Pontus told you.

"He said much as you. Your plan however was a partial success, my friend. Six thousand or so smashed through the lines and made it out through the other side. If there was any miscalculation it was in the quality of soldier that Crassus had now placed before you. Gone were those part-timers and idiotae that you overcame so easily for these past two years. Gone and replaced by battle-hardened veterans of various campaigns around the empire.

That would explain much, Constantine. he said nodding agreement.

No confusion ensued your attempt on Crassus. Strict discipline was upheld, the lines closed and your oncoming infantry slaughtered. Pontus told me that they fought like lions. Men, women and children slaughtered by the merciless thrust of the gladius.

How in Hades did Pontus get me through all that?

He said you were speared in the leg, wrenched the pilum out, arrows were peppered in your shield and then you were unhorsed and trampled by your own steed. Pontus saved you, slung you over his own horse and then with Cavalry Captain Heracles, brought you here as agreed.

Where is Heracles now?

Leading the remnants north. There are about six thousand I believe. Pontus and he agreed that keeping you from being paraded in Rome publicly tortured then crucified as a warning to all slaves was to be stopped at all costs. Heracles knew that we were only a small vessel and that we could only take a few. So he and Pontus decided to part outside the town so as not to give undue hope of evacuation to so many. He seemed confident of retracing your steps back to the northern border.

I am no use to him now or the others. I can hardly move from this bed.

They think you’re dead from your wounds.

What news of, General Pompey?

He is recalled from Spain as you know and is I believe marching back from there rather than sailing. He must be insane, it’s a long walk, but he has his own schemes with the Roman Senate.

It’s a lot to take in. Have you got any Aqua vitae left, I think it will ease the pain.

That’s more like the Spartacus I know, but I cannot keep calling you that name. Your survival must be kept a secret. The Romans will never cease in your search and destruction. They hunted Hannibal down for years. Their pursuit is relentless for all who dare challenge the might of Rome… Was Spartacus your birth name?

No, it was Nebus after the last king of Sparta and my arena name came as a play on that.

Well you are now a rich merchant my friend. How does Lord Nebus sound to you?

It felt odd to hear his birth name again after so many years, but it had a nice ring to it.

Lord Nebus, he would have to get used to it.

Your aqua vitae, my Lord, said Constantine pouring two cups of the fiery liquid from an earthenware flagon. He handed one to his friend.

Hail to Dionysus. said Constantine.

All hail to the fallen. responded Nebus in sombre tones. He downed the contents of the cup in one go. It burnt his throat and all the way down to his stomach, where it nestled like a contained ember, ready to spurt into flame again.

In Aries name, Constantine! he coughed. Your father's brew is more fiery than Aetna.

Constantine smiled wryly and sipped gently from the clay cup.

Where will we go from here? asked Nebus.

We lift the anchor stone at dawn and sail to Sicily as planned, to Syracusa, then via the islands and finally to Africa. After that, your plans are your own.

Can’t we go directly to Africa?

"No, it would cause suspicion. I must maintain my usual agenda. People will notice and that could cause awkward questions.

I don’t want the Cilician council aware of what has occurred and you cannot have news of your survival, or even the possibility of it, spreading in whispered rumours.

Once in Africa, your plans are your own and it is better that I know nothing of them for your own security."

I am on my own again, Constantine… It will be strange.

Have another drink and we will salute the thousands again.

Nebus downed the aqua vitae again in one go after they had clinked cups and toasted the thousands. The drinking was reckless but enjoyable under the circumstances and it certainly made the physical pain Nebus was suffering dull into insignificance.

How can you tell a Roman General in a field full of naked men bending over? asked Constantine.

Nebus looked at him mystified and made a painful attempt to shrug his shoulders.

He is the one with the most love bites on his arse. said Constantine with glee.

Nebus chuckled and asked in return, What is the definition of a Roman virgin of the Nobilitas?

It was Constantine’s turn to shrug. It’s a girl that can run faster than her brother!

They both laughed and for the first time since he had awoken today, Nebus felt a little better.

Chapter Three

non ignara mali miseris seccurre disco

No stranger to trouble myself I am learning to care for the unhappy-Virgil.

Having docked successfully and made his necessary preparations, Constantine stepped briskly ashore in Syracusa. The harbour was as busy as ever and the grain galleys that plied these waters were so heavily laden that they languished like beached whales. Constantine knew that they were probably awaiting more crew members or final orders as to which port they would be eventually going.

Constantine nodded at a few acquaintances and proceeded through the bustling harbour to his merchant contact. He grasped the small pouch of pearls tightly to ensure that the famous pickpockets of Syracusa had no easy pickings at his expense this day. He would conclude his business, take his gold and drop by the local Cilicean agent based on the harbour-side here for a brief conversation, before rejoining The Dolphin and heading off for Malita. The air was warm and moist with a salty tang upon the tongue as he hurried through the colourful harbour-side throng.

He called at the merchant’s fine house and was pleased to find that he was at home.

A servant brought him to a cosy well-appointed high ceilinged room and asked if Constantine would like any refreshment. Constantine thanked him, but declined.

He was kept waiting for only a few moments before merchant Giovanni entered the room. He was a man of middle years, with a hook nose, black hair, of average height and resplendently dressed in the latest fashions.

Hail, Constantine, it’s been weeks, where have you been?

On the trail of your merchandise, my friend. he said tapping the side of his nose.

Come, have some watered wine and tell me all your news.

Constantine did not wish to offend and took the offered wine. It was very good and not the usual cheap and vile vinegary stuff, which was often offered to low ranking guests.

Constantine did not regard himself as a low ranking guest, but he was a Cilicean pirate after all and this sometimes affected the host’s choice of refreshment.

Mmm, this is good wine, my friend, got any spare for a poor sailor?

Bah! You poor? That will be the day, Constantine.

Well there’s always a chance that I may find myself impoverished one day.

Not as long as I live and breathe, Constantine. Now do not keep me in suspense, have you brought the Balearic pearls?

I have and they are of exquisite quality.

You’d say that if they were polished pebbles, Constantine!

Have you no faith?

In truth, with you yes, but some of your comrades are not so honest.

That is why you have dealt with me for so long.

Constantine pulled the suede pouch from inside his robes and tipped the beautiful glistening pearls on to a small marble table. Giovanni gasped in delight.

You have excelled yourself this time, Constantine. They are beautiful and look perfect to me.

That they are and I expect the full price we agreed, plus some free jugs of that wine for good measure.

Having seen them I will not argue. My buyer will be extremely pleased at these and I am sure that the whore, who is his mistress, will look resplendent in them.

Too good for his lady wife, I assume?

They are indeed. Speaking of whores, are you staying long enough in port to visit your favourite lady?

But of course, I shall be visiting her directly from here.

You dirty dog! I have been trying to get at her for ages, but she keeps palming me off with one of her acolytes. Put in a good word for me will you?

I will pass on your warmest greetings, Giovanni, I can do no more and she is the mistress of her own destiny. he said smiling.

Giovanni proceeded to a small partially concealed chest in the corner of the room. He slowly opened the lid and withdrew a leather pouch.

He threw the pouch at Constantine, who snatched it out of the air and weighed the contents in his mind.

That seems about fair, Giovanni, as long as it’s not sand!

As if I would do that to you, Constantine. You know as well as I that I would not live beyond this night with your friends around the harbour-side.

You know me too well and I you, Giovanni. Now, is there anything you require on my next trip?

Not at the present, but I have a friend who could be in the market for some fine horses in the not to distant future.

I know just the man, said Constantine.

I thought you might. I shall be in touch, give my regards to Felicia.

I will. A pleasure to do business with you as usual, Giovanni.

Constantine grasped his gold and the servant had shown him out, giving him three jugs of wine to take with him.

He made his way slowly back to the harbour area, gently taking in the sights and aromas from the roadside food carts.

Felicia ran the busiest brothel on the waterfront and was the senior Cilicean agent on the island. It was a perfect cover. The things men said in their sleep or in intimate moments were worth their weight in gold around the Mediterranean. Felicia had become rich enough from selling information, to buy a palatial country estate and live in splendour for the rest of her days. But she found the task and lifestyle addictive and would hear no talk of retirement from anyone.

Constantine entered the premises. Felicia recognised him immediately.

Constantine. You old sea dog! Where have you been, leaving your poor Felicia all on her own for weeks at a time? she exclaimed excitedly.

She rushed to him and embraced him tenderly, making a great spectacle of it for all the customers to see.

Have you brought me a present from your travels?

I have brought you the finest wine, from a private estate on the far side of the world.

You know I like presents, she squealed and embraced him again.

Shall we go upstairs, Felicia?

Oh yes, my love. She took him by the hand and led him up the stairs and into her private apartments.

The room was spacious and expensively adorned with silks and furnishings and there was an almost overpowering smell of exotic perfumes.

Well, that was a very public display, Felicia. said Constantine.

All part of the act, Constantine. Is this wine really from the far side of the world?

Like you said, all part of the act. Far side of the street would be more accurate, but it’s a nice drop of wine for all that.

Constantine took the opportunity to study Felicia again. She was about forty years of age, trim of figure with huge breasts. These were always displayed to their best advantage, with low cut garments. Her face was always made up and she looked sometimes like a painted statue that you could see in the piazza.

Felica unstoppered a flagon and poured two clay goblets full. She patted the cushion on the couch for Constantine to come and sit next to her.