Spartacus: Rebellion by Ben Kane Page A

instant, in case the gods suddenly struck him down. His gaze settled on a portly figure sitting under a sign that read: LETTERS COMPOSED. NEAT SCRIPT. REASONABLE PRICES. Catching Carbo’s eye, the scribe gave him an amiable nod. Pleased that the man hadn’t verbally assaulted him as his neighbours had, Carbo nodded back. ‘I need a letter written,’ he blurted, feeling his resolve weaken.
    ‘That’s my job.’
    ‘It won’t be long. No more than a few lines.’
    ‘Four asses.’
    ‘Fine. Can you have it sent as well?’
    ‘That will cost more. Where does it need to go?’
    ‘Rome.’
    There was a frown. ‘The road south isn’t safe at the moment, as you know.’
    ‘Because of Spartacus and his men?’
    A tight, angry nod. ‘They say that he’s advancing on the town. The proconsul is sure to act within the next day or so. His two legions are ready for a fight. With the blessings of Jupiter, Greatest and Best, we will soon rid be of the Thracian murderer and the scum who follow in his wake.’
    ‘Let us hope so,’ Carbo replied blithely. ‘Can you have it sent anyway?’
    ‘I should be able to find someone. It will cost you, mind.’
    ‘How much?’
    ‘Call it an even denarius.’
    Carbo made a rueful face, but he would have paid far more if he’d had to. He fumbled in his purse and handed over a silver coin.
    Selecting a small piece of parchment, the scribe placed it on his stained desk and weighed its corners down with pieces of lead. Dipping his stylus into a pot of ink, he looked enquiringly at Carbo.
    ‘“Honoured Father and Mother, I live in hope that this reaches you both healthy and well.”’
    The scribe pursed his lips with concentration as he finished the line. ‘Yes?’
    ‘“I can only apologise for the lack of communication since I left home. I departed because I wished to” . . .’ Carbo paused, wondering what he should say. ‘. . . “help the family’s financial problems in my own way, rather than doing as Father wished. I know that this makes me an undutiful son, but I could not bear the thought of becoming a lawyer.”’
    ‘I don’t blame you,’ said the scribe, scowling at the stallholder opposite, a tall man with oiled hair and an imperious manner. ‘Liars and thieves, the lot of them.’
    Even more aware of the need to choose his words with care, Carbo smiled.
    ‘Continue.’
    ‘“I still hope to help with regard to Father’s obligations in the future. For the moment, however, that will have to wait. I am about to embark on a long and dangerous journey, one from which I may never return.”’ May? Will. But he couldn’t say that, in case the scribe got too curious. His letter was surely odd enough as it was. ‘“Before my departure, I wished to let you know that I pray for you both daily. May the gods watch over and protect you. Your loving son, Carbo.”’
    The scribe signed off the letter with a flourish. ‘Thinking of seeking your fortune abroad?’
    ‘Yes.’ You cannot even imagine.
    ‘With a merchant?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘Gaul, or somewhere even further afield?’
    ‘I have to meet a man in Placentia who is heading for Gaul and then Britannia,’ lied Carbo.
    ‘You’re a braver man than me,’ said the scribe with a shudder. ‘They say that the seas around Britannia are full of terrible monsters. Its natives live under the malign influence of the druids. Their warriors fight naked, eat the flesh of their enemies, and make drinking cups out of their skulls.’ He took Carbo’s feigned horror at face value. ‘Of course I didn’t mean that you would come to any harm. No doubt you’ll be home within the year, a wealthy man.’
    ‘No doubt.’ Real grief gripped Carbo. Despite the lie about his intentions, his imminent departure was no less final. If only he could turn up on his uncle’s doorstep and say goodbye to his parents in person, instead of sending them a coded letter. Be content. It’s the best you can do.
    ‘To whom should