Free Spartacus: The Gladiator by Ben Kane Page B

blinked. Stop thinking about yourself. Father’s problems are far more important .
    ‘There you are!’ he cried, glad to be distracted from concerns over his father. The Samnite was carrying a scutum that Jovian had used during his military service years before. Carbo reached out an eager hand.
    Paccius didn’t give it to him. ‘Steady,’ he warned. ‘Knowing everything about your arms and equipment is just as important as learning how to use them.’
    He knows best . Carbo nodded reluctantly. ‘Very well.’
    Paccius tapped the metal rim that covered both ends of the shield. ‘What’s this for?’
    ‘At the top, it’s to protect against sword strokes, and at the bottom, it prevents wear from contact with the ground.’
    ‘Good. And this?’ Paccius pointed to the heavy central iron boss.
    ‘It’s decorative, but it’s also a weapon.’ Carbo threw his left fist forward. ‘If you punch it towards an enemy’s face, he’ll often lean backwards or to the side, exposing his throat.’ He followed through with a thrust of the gladius. ‘Another man down.’ He looked at Paccius proudly.
    ‘Nice to know that you sometimes pay attention to what I’m saying,’ was the Samnite’s only comment. ‘Let’s start with the basics: how to hold the shield correctly.’ He reversed the scutum and proffered its inner surface.
    Carbo sighed. His impatience would get him nowhere. If he was to benefit from Paccius’ experience, he had to do it his way. He took hold of the horizontal grip. ‘What next?’
    Finally, Paccius smiled. ‘Hold it up, so that I can barely see your eyes. Have your sword pointing forward from the right hip, ready to use.’
    Carbo obeyed. At once his pulse quickened and the sounds of domestic life dimmed. Despite the peacefulness of their surroundings, he could imagine standing on a battlefield, with comrades either side of him. Yet the picture dimmed within a couple of heartbeats. Carbo scowled. It was highly unlikely that that would ever happen. Since they’d moved to the city four years before, his father had maintained that the best career for him to follow was not working the land, which is what their ancestors had done for generations, or joining the army, Carbo’s dream, but politics. ‘The days of citizen farmers are gone. The cut-price grain from latifundia , and from Sicily and Egypt, has seen to that.’ Jovian regularly lamented the changes in agriculture that had seen family farms all but obliterated by vast estates owned by the nobility. ‘Your mother’s brother Alfenus Varus, on the other hand, is making a name for himself in Rome. He’s a new man, but look at him – one of the foremost lawyers in Rome. He is fond of you too. With the gods’ help, he might take you under his wing.’ A lawyer, thought Carbo bitterly. He couldn’t think of anything worse. Training with Paccius might be the only military training he ever received. Without further ado, he determined to absorb every word that fell from the Samnite’s lips.
    Before Paccius had made any serious attempt to teach the finer points of weapons training, he had Carbo run around the rectangular courtyard more than twenty times, carrying the gladius and scutum. When that was done, the Samnite began showing Carbo how to move in combat, both singly and when in formation. He repeatedly stressed the importance of holding the line and sticking with one’s comrades. ‘Contrary to what you might think, winning a battle is not about individual heroics. It’s about discipline, pure and simple,’ he growled. ‘That is what differentiates the Roman soldier from the vast majority of his opponents, and it is the main reason for the legions’ success over the last two hundred years.’ He pulled a face. ‘My people could have done with more discipline.’
    Carbo redoubled his efforts, proudly imagining himself in the midst of any one of the armies that had variously defeated the other ethnic groups in Italy: the mighty