He put out his hand and whispered the words that had marked each stage of their rebellion, from the first wild days to the dawning belief that they could break the order that had existed for centuries. “All or nothing, Spartacus?” he said.
The gladiator looked at the hand and the bond of sworn friendship it represented. His gaze strayed to the Mutina eagle where it leaned against the wall of his tent. After a moment of silent contemplation, he let out his breath.
“All right, all or nothing. Get the women and children clear away and then I want to see Antonidus before putting it to the men. Do you think they will follow us?”
“No, Spartacus, but they will follow you anywhere.”
Spartacus nodded. “Then we will turn south and strike at the heart of them.”
“And rip the bastard out.”
Pompey had ordered Lepidus to the head of the column with his legion, forcing them to set the pace. Behind them, Primigenia marched with Crassus and Pompey at the head. The message was clear and the first hundred miles had been covered at the speed Pompey wanted without losing a man to injury.
The evenings were quieter times in the two great camps than they had been on the Via Flaminia. The pace sapped the energy of the legionaries, and by the time the halt was called, they were ready to eat and sleep and little more. Even Brutus had ceased his sword bouts, claiming a draw with two losses and two wins against Domitius by the end. At intervals, Cabera would bring up the money they had lost with some bitterness.
Riders from the extraordinarii reported back each day, scouting far ahead of the main force. The messages they brought were worryingly brief, with no sign of the slave army within their range. Pompey sent out more and more of the scouts with orders to move north and west to find them. It wasn't said aloud, but the worry was that in such vast country the rebels could slip past them and move against the unprotected south.
Each night, the generals' meeting was fraught with argument and snapping tempers. Rather than take it as proof of Pompey's displeasure with him, Lepidus seemed to delight in leading the column, and Pompey grew less and less willing to hear his complaints. By Lepidus's account, only his authority could force the pace Pompey wanted from the legions, and each night he claimed the final price could be disastrous for them. He was a master at knowing when to stop pushing at Pompey's patience, and the meetings had become almost a battle of wills between the two men, with Crassus powerless to intervene. Julius hoped Lepidus could fight as well as he could argue.
After two weeks on the western road, Lepidus reported triumphantly that men had fallen and been left at the guard posts or in villages with orders to rejoin when they had healed. Every night was an agony of blisters and sprains for hundreds of the legionaries all the way down the column. The legions were approaching exhaustion and the other legates had begun to side with Lepidus in their call to rest the men. Pompey acceded reluctantly rather than see his authority undermined, standing them down for four days. Only the extraordinarii were denied rest as Pompey sent them all out in a last bid to find the slave army.
At last the riders came galloping back into camp with sightings. The rebels were moving south and east back from the mountains to the plains. Pompey gathered his generals that evening to give them the grim news.
“They are striking back toward Rome and the scouts say they have more than eighty thousand men on the march. Every slave in the north has gone over to them.”
There was little point in holding back the worrying figures from the generals, with the rebels only a few hundred miles away. Now that the scouts had found them, they would not be allowed to escape. Regardless of numbers, it only remained to choose the best place of attack.
“If they're coming south, we can either march to meet them or wait for them to reach us,” Pompey continued. “No matter what happens, they cannot pass or we'll lose Rome. Make no mistake, gentlemen, if they break through our line, Rome will fall and all we love will die, like Carthage before us. We will make a stand here to the last man if need be. Make that clear to your men. There is nowhere to retreat to, no safe haven where we can regroup and strike again. The Republic stands with us alone.”
Lepidus looked as shocked as the others. “Eighty thousand! I have as much confidence as anyone in our soldiers, but… the legions in Greece and Spain must be recalled. The Senate didn't know the size of the threat when they sent us out.”
For once, Pompey bore his outburst without a rebuke. “I have sent messages back to Rome, but we are here now. Even if the borders could be stripped without losing everything we've gained in a hundred years, those legions couldn't reach us in time to make a difference to this battle.”
“But we could mount a fighting retreat until support arrives. Eighty thousand could overwhelm us. We'd be flanked and broken in the first hour of fighting. It's impossible!”
“Speak like that in front of the men and that's exactly what will happen,” Pompey barked at the general. “These are not trained soldiers we're facing, Lepidus. They could have escaped across the mountains in all likelihood, but instead they are after riches and plunder, while our men fight for our home city and the lives of everyone in it. They will break for us. We will stand.”
“The commander at Mutina probably said the same thing,” Lepidus muttered, not quite loudly enough for Pompey to be forced to answer, though he glared at the legate.
“My orders are to engage and destroy, gentlemen. We will do exactly that. If we wait for them, they could go right round us, so we will carry this war to them. Make the men ready to march north. Lepidus, you will take the left flank and keep a wide line to prevent encirclement. They have little in the way of cavalry except a few stolen mounts, so use ours to hold the wings steady. Julius, I want you on the left to support Lepidus if that becomes necessary. Crassus and I will take the right flank as always and I will concentrate the bulk of the cavalry there to prevent them spilling round us and making south and east toward Ariminum. They must not be allowed to reach that city.”
One of the two legates from Ariminum cleared his throat.
“I would like to take the right flank with you, sir. Many of my men have families in Ariminum. I do myself. They will fight all the harder knowing what could happen if the right breaks.”
Pompey nodded. “All right. The Ariminum legions will be the core of the right flank. The rest of you make the center. I want the hastati maniples on the front line instead of the velites. We need weight more than speed to break them on the first charge. Bring the triarii up quickly if the advance is slowed or turned. I've yet to meet a force that can withstand our veterans.”
It was dawn before the meeting ended, and the day was spent breaking the camp ready for the march. Julius stayed with Primigenia, passing on the orders and positions to Brutus and the centurions. By that evening, every man knew the seriousness of the battle to come, and many of the injuries they had taken on the march were forgotten or ignored in the thoughts of the conflict they welcomed. Even with the rumors of huge numbers of the enemy, every soldier was determined they would not leave Rome and their families open to the invader. Better than anyone, they knew that their discipline and skill were unmatched, no matter who came against them, or how many.
The army of Spartacus was sighted at sunset. The order signals went out to create a hostile camp, with the borders twice the normal height and every soldier sleeping on short watches ready to repel a night attack. The soldiers spent the time awake checking their armor and swords, oiling leather and polishing metal. Spears were sharpened or replaced with fresh-cast heads from the smithy. Heavy ballistae and onagers were assembled and stone shot made ready for the dawn, their bulk leaving ruts in the soil. The slave army had nothing like the great war machines, and though they had but one range, the “mule's kick” onager could cut swaths through an enemy charge.