Word had spread through the republic almost as fast as the fever itself, striking down hundreds in its wake. There was discontent among Romans, who heard words of sickness and feared it worse than Spartacus and the rebel army who brought down the arena in Capua.
The rebels had left the temple at the foot of Vesuvius, fewer in number, but greater in spirits, emboldened by impossible victory. They moved east to the Adriatic, in search of game and worthy ludus to liberate. Hopes ran high with the thought of swelling ranks with trained fighting man and stomach with meat. It was among slaves in a field that the first whispers of illness reached the ears of the rebels.
Naevia had gone with two of the former house slaves to steal fruit from trees of a wealthy Roman man. They crouched behind crates, left empty and rotting, as they waited for the last of the slaves to return to the villa as dusk turned the horizon a brilliant shade of orange.
"I would not return to the villa this night," an older woman whispered to a fellow slave, picking an orange from a tree and putting it in the basket upon her hip.
"Dominus will have you crucified if you do not," a younger girl spat back.
"Three more fell ill last night," the woman whispered in a harsh tone, "I would fare better in the wood."
"The wood is filled with wild dogs and rebels," the girl pleaded, "you would end up carnage or nailed to a cross."
"It is better than burning alive and bleeding from eyes," the woman replied, "come with me, the Dominus had headache this morning. I fear he falls ill too. He will be too ill to pursue us."
"I will not brand self as fugitivus," the girl said, "and Tivius has fallen ill. I must return to his side and we need you there as well."
The woman made a sound of complaint, "perhaps if I find the rebels I can find place among them."
"What use would they have for a tired old woman?" the girl asked.
"I know herbs and can seal wounds," she stated, "but I fear I cannot stop this fever. Would that Tivius was healthy and could seek freedom with us."
Naviea stilled the house slaves, beseeching them to remain hidden as the girl's voice became more desperate.
"Euradise," she pleaded, "we need you to survive this illness, if Dominus has fallen ill he will call you to his side, and he will punish all for your absence."
"Then find sense," Euradise replied, "and come with me. Spartacus and his rebels are certainly bound for the Ludus to the north. The Romans lay trap for them. If we can bring warning to them we will escape sickness and give strength to just cause."
"Or we could see ourselves to early death," the girl replied.
As if predicted a voice rang out from the distant villa. The voice shouted Euradise's name. Naevia took this as her moment to spring from hiding.
"I am with Spartacus," she said.
Both women turned to her, the rebel girls jumping up alongside her, swords drawn.
"You speak of trap," Naevia said, "loose tongue and aid noble cause."
Euradise's eyes, a curious shade of grey, glared at Naevia, appraising the girl who stood in rags, holding a sword with confidence of a gladiator.
"I am head slave of our villa," Euradise, "I tended meal when a praetor of Rome came to my Dominus to seek favor and food for his men. He spoke of Rome's knowledge of rebels intentions. The ludus is a trap. They have replaced gladiators with soldiers loyal to Rome. They are to join your ranks and slaughter all during the night."
"If your words are true," Naevia said, "you have saved our cause. I shall bring them to Spartacus."
All of the women could hear footsteps approaching, villa guards searching for the woman who was known as medicus.
"I must return to villa," Euradise said, "opportunity to flee is now stolen from me. See that Spartacus heeds my words. And if any among you burn of fever do not have them drink bark of willow to calm fire, or that their blood surely spill. Water and time, it is the only hope."
Euradise turned form the rebels, a small smile crossing her lined face.
As she made her way toward the guards who sought her she heard the voice of Naevia whisper "gratitude" on the wind.