"Another rider approaches." Agron shouted, alerting the rebels in the encampment below.
"His destination will be the underworld as well." Crixus declared, adjusting his sword as he prepared to
intercept the messenger.
"Wait." Spartacus furrowed his brows. The others gathered around him, waiting for their leader to
speak.
"Heat of battle killed the previous Roman, but foolishness will not kill another…not when his mouth
might give forth secrets we need."
"What knowledge could a lowly messenger have?" Gannicus asked, taking a swig of his wine.
"It is his master that I am concerned with. Whosoever is sending these men seeks Glaber with great
urgency. Such haste shall work well for us, should we seize opportunity."
"Spartacus…"
"We need to know more of Rome. Glaber was known to me, but none of us will recognize the others
that Rome will send after us. Any information we can gleam gives us more to defeat our enemy."
"You speak wisely," Crixus concurred, "We will capture this Roman fuck, and find out what we need to
know before we leave Vesuvius."
"Gather the scouts." Spartacus commanded. "And give order to capture the man, so that we may pry
truths from his tongue."
XXXXXX
"Make no sound, and follow." Aertha whispered, beckoning Spartacus and Crixus to walk behind her.
It seemed a small eternity passed as rebels waited for the horseman to arrive, and Spartacus cursed
impatiently. Every moments they stayed increased the risk of exposure, and he was not so confident it
his fledgling army to risk it so soon after a victory.
Finally, a rider burst through the forest, and was quickly subdued by an arrow to his shoulder. His
screams rang in Spartacus's ears as the Roman was dragged from his horse and shoved onto his knees in
front of the rebellion leader.
"Who sent you?" Spartacus demanded, sword tip touching the messengers throat.
"I will not answer to a slave." Was the snarled answer.
Agron sighed, the suddenly plunged his sword into the man's arm. The screams echoed throughout the
forest.
"Answer him, you piece of Roman shit!"
"I will not!"
The sword went into the leg next, twisting slowly. The messenger's screams had dissolved into
whimpers by this point and Spartacus squatted in front of him.
"You will die here today," he said slowly, "but it is up to how you die. Tell us what you know and we will
kill you swiftly. If you do not, I will make you beg for death."
Whatever was in this eyes convinced the messenger, and he stammered out the name.
"I come from Ilithyia, the wife of the Praetor…"
"Regarding?"
"The birth of his son."
At the information Spartacus reared back, dropping the sword in his shock. Agron whipped his head to
look at his leader, surprised by the gesture.
"A son?" Spartacus whispered, and the messenger nodded frantically.
"She stated that if he did not come back, she would make way to Rome for her child's naming
ceremonies."
"Ilithyia makes way to Rome now? Where does she travel from?"
"The path around Vesuvius. It is desolate, but considered safer." The Roman gulped. "That is all I know."
Spartacus's smile as he slit the man's throat was a terrible thing to behold. Both Agron and Crixus felt
chills move down their spines as their leader methodically cleaned his sword on the cape.
"Prepare to waylay the carriage." Spartacus commanded softly, looking distant
"Why?" Crixus objected.
"Ilithyia's father was a Roman senator. She knows the upper echelon of the Republic, including men who
will be sent after us. I would have information from her, to aid our rebellion."
"And is that the only reason?"
Spartacus paused. "Ilithyia and I have unfinished business. I would see it done."
XXXXXXXXXX
Ilithyia cursed under her breath as the caravan jostled again. The terrain was rough, and her son had
exhausted himself crying, and was now asleep. She wished she could join him in slumber, but thoughts
of Gaius, of Spartacus, of Lucretia, kept her awake. The bumps on the road were not helping either.
Ilithyia wished they were in Rome, where Gaius could name her son. Rome she thought where I can finally wipe the taint of Capua off my body. Though a part of her knew that Spartacus would not be so easy to forget.
She cried out as the carriage lurched, and the babe woke to cry anew. As Ilithyia was hushing him, the sounds from coming from outside registered. Screams and cries rang through her ears, eerily similar to when Gannicus had come take her away. Gathering her courage she peeked outside.
The bodies of her guards greeted her, the carnage seemingly never ending as rebels continued to slaughter the men she had taken with her for her voyage. Ilithyia caught a glimpse of Gannicus, mind flashing back to the time she was captured, as he cut down the men in front of him as if they were chaff.
Looking through the rebels ranks, her eyes found Spartacus as he fought his way to her. Shrinking back into the caravan she scooped up her son, scrunching herself up in a corner, ready to defend him with her life.
Only a few moments later her worst fears were realized as Spartacus ripped off the flimsy cloth barrier protecting her from the massacre. Ilithyia pressed herself into the wall of the caravan, absentmindedly hushing her son as he wailed. She cringed as Spartacus's eyes focused on the babe, and waited for him to speak.