Chapter 25: Conclusion
Chapter 25: Conclusion
After Crixus's death, the morale of the Roman army soared. They had witnessed an unprecedented and brutal duel between the strongest gladiators, with the victor being a direct subordinate of their commander-in-chief. Spartacus knelt before Crassus and presented Crixus’s sword. The scene was legendary, and it exhilarated the Roman soldiers.
The rebels, inspired by Crixus’s final stand, fought valiantly, but the overwhelming disparity in strength crushed them swiftly. The battle lasted only a few hours, and the once-thundering war drums fell silent.
“Wowowowowow!”
The hill was now alive with the sounds of trumpets and the soldiers' cheers celebrating their victory. The rebellion that had endured for more than a year was finally over.
“How many rebels escaped?” Crassus inquired.
Casualties on the Roman side were minimal, marking a crushing victory. Yet, Crassus remained uneasy. He had noticed that a small enemy unit had broken through their encirclement at the battle's end.
One of the legionnaires responded casually, “The enemy’s right wing broke through the 3rd Legion’s encirclement and fled. But they number less than 5,000.”
“Why did they manage to break through?”
“The terrain where the 3rd Legion was stationed was difficult to enclose tightly. If they had used the fortifications for defense as planned, it would not have been an issue, but they were unlucky this time.”
“Hmm… A few remnants won’t amount to much, but it bothers me.”
Crassus didn’t believe the fleeing rebels posed a significant threat, but he was unsettled by not achieving a complete annihilation. He was also unaware of how close Pompey’s forces might be.
‘No, even if Pompey arrives, it will take time to find these remnants. We still have some time.’
Crassus was determined not to let Pompey steal his military glory. Although he wouldn’t lose all his credit if Pompey defeated the remaining rebels, he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone undermining his hard-earned victory.
Crassus was certain Pompey’s actions were meant to challenge him. Currently, Crassus and Lucullus were the only Senate members who could rival Pompey. Lucullus was making significant progress in pushing back Mithridates VI of Pontus in the east.
Crassus had achieved a great victory over the rebels who had ravaged the southern part of the Italian peninsula. In light of this success, it was difficult for Pompey to stand out, regardless of his own military accomplishments. Crassus viewed Pompey’s attempts to overshadow him as mere jealousy.
Marcus approached Crassus, who appeared deep in thought, and addressed him.
“Father, congratulations on your victory.”
“Oh, you're here. You did well yourself. Tell Spartacus that I will free him and grant him our family name once we return to Rome.”
“Thank you. But I heard that a few remnants escaped.”
“Yes, that’s what has been troubling me.”
Marcus moved closer with a serious expression and spoke in a hushed tone.
“I have something to tell you about that. It’s related to Pompey.”
The remaining rebel forces, led by Ashur, made their way to Brundisium, their original goal. Their escape was not a stroke of luck but a planned maneuver.
Ashur had intended to fight alongside Crassus until the end. However, Crassus had hoped that some rebels would survive, not to live in disgrace, but to remember and spread the story of this fight.
The night before the final battle, Crassus had revealed the truth to Ashur: Spartacus was not a traitor but had been fighting for a better life for gladiators. Crassus gave Ashur a final order: regardless of the duel’s outcome, there would be a momentary gap in the encirclement. Ashur was instructed to exploit this gap to break through and head for Brundisium. If they could reach Brundisium, they might find a way to escape to the Greek region, where Roman influence was weaker.
Crassus's attack had created a weak spot in the encirclement, which Ashur seized upon after Crassus’s death. Despite having fewer than 5,000 survivors, the escape route was carefully chosen to avoid unnecessary risks. Ashur and the remaining rebels hurried through the forest path toward Brundisium.
“We’re almost there. Brundisium is just ahead. Let’s hold on a little longer!”
They had been running non-stop, barely resting since the battle. Physically exhausted, their faces still shone with hope. If they could board a boat at Brundisium, they would finally leave Rome behind and head to Greece for a normal life, carrying the story of the hero Crixus with them.
But as they emerged from the forest, their hopes were crushed. The golden eagle flag of Rome loomed over them.
“How, how can this be…” Ashur muttered in shock.
It seemed impossible. They had been on the move continuously since leaving the battlefield. Even if the Roman army had pursued them, it should have taken them time to catch up. Yet here they were, waiting ahead of time.
“This, this is a nightmare. I’m having a terrible nightmare…” one of the survivors murmured, echoing Ashur’s own dismay.
But as they took in the scene, they noticed something unsettling. The Roman soldiers in front of them were different from those they had fought before. Their demeanor was fiercer, their presence more menacing, and they carried a strong smell of blood, a stark contrast to the previous Roman army.
The commander, a strikingly handsome young man in his early or mid-thirties, rode at the center of the legion. He was clearly a different leader from the one they had encountered on the hill.
Ashur gazed up at him with trembling eyes. The Roman commander gave a slight shake of his head and turned his horse away with an indifferent expression, showing no interest in the rebels.
A legionnaire beside the commander asked cautiously, “How did you predict that they would come here?”
“It’s simple. Given the route Crassus pursued, their destination must be Brundisium. Even if they hadn’t arranged boats in advance, they planned to board them there.”
“Yes, you mentioned that earlier.”
“Crassus’ army caught up with them and surrounded them. If they learned we were approaching, they would be forced to launch a full-scale attack. I checked the map and saw that a sudden assault would create a gap. If they didn’t scatter in all directions, their most likely move was to use their planned escape route.”
The legionnaire listened with admiration, while the commander spoke with indifference, as if this were no great feat.
“Even if they managed to escape, they wouldn’t make the same mistake of moving on flat ground and getting caught. Even if they are slaves, they can think. Predicting their escape route was straightforward.”
“It’s not easy, at least not for us.”
“Is that so? Well, that’s enough explanation. Shall we begin?”
The Roman army had anticipated the rebels’ arrival and prepared everything meticulously, including their formation. They had nearly ten times the number of troops.
This was no longer a battle; it was an execution.
The legionnaire who received the signal drew his weapon and aimed at the rebels, who stood stunned.
“All troops, leave no one alive. Annihilate the enemy and tighten the encirclement to ensure they cannot escape! For the Imperator!”
“For the Imperator!”
“Imperator” was a title given to a general who had achieved a military merit worthy of a triumph.
Tens of thousands of soldiers shouted “Imperator” in unison and charged at the surviving rebels.
Blocked in all directions except the rear, the rebels had no choice but to fight. Ashur, with a bitter smile, drew his sword.
“I’m sorry. I guess I can’t fulfill the last order.”
He smiled strangely, his lips curled.
‘Captain, I understand now. When real death approaches, the only thing you can show is courage.’
Crixus might have felt this way every time he fought after starting the rebellion. He chose whom to serve with his own will, even in slavery, and kept his promise to the end.
He regretted not passing on his wish to future generations but did not despair.
‘I leave it to you, Spartacus.’
Ashur was the first to charge at the advancing Roman army, followed by the other survivors, who rushed forward without hesitation.
What followed was not a grand battle. The rebels were swiftly and decisively annihilated within minutes. There were no survivors. They faced their end head-on, their bodies and faces pierced, never turning their backs.
The rebellion that had once terrorized Rome ended with the death of the last survivor.
The legionnaire who approached the commander, observing the corpses of the rebels, saluted him.
“Congratulations on your victory.”
“I wouldn’t call this a victory, even if it were my own. I feel nothing but disgust for this kind of pointless slaughter.”
“But isn’t it significant that you ended the war, Imperator?”
“That’s true. Well then, let’s move on now that this is finished.”
The legionnaire nodded.
“Do you wish to return to Rome?”
“No. I need to see Crassus first. We haven’t met in five years; I should at least say hello.”
It was well known throughout Rome that he and Crassus did not get along. If they met, it would not be a cordial exchange.
However, the legionnaire did not argue and bowed his head. The Imperator’s orders were absolute.
“As you wish, Lord Pompey Magnus.”
※※※※
Three days later, Pompey and Crassus’ armies met at Silvium, northwest of Metapontum.
Crassus frowned and gritted his teeth as he faced Pompey’s confident demeanor.
“Pompey…”
“It’s been five years, Crassus. You look just the same. I’m glad.”
Few people, even senators, could act so casually in front of Crassus. Among those under 30, Pompey was probably the only one.
That’s why Crassus resented the younger man, who was nine years his junior.
Pompey, a military genius and great strategist, had led his own legion and fought under Sulla at 18. Even Crassus, the wealthiest man in Rome, couldn’t match Pompey’s fame.
The two had never been on good terms. Crassus envied Pompey’s military talent, which he lacked, while Pompey disdained Crassus’ excessive greed for wealth.
Now, Pompey had claimed the end of the slave rebellion, which only fueled expectations that Crassus would soon erupt in anger.
Contrary to everyone’s expectations, Crassus did not get angry. Instead, he gave Pompey a displeased look.
“Why did you come down here? You should have disbanded your army and returned to civilian life once you got back to Rome.”
“There are still enemies of Rome who have not been eradicated. How can I disband my army with a clear conscience?”
“I practically eradicated them.”
“But you allowed some to escape. A small spark can start a huge wildfire at any time. I am the one who truly ended the rebellion, Pompey. It’s not an exaggeration to say so. I reported this to the Senate as well.”
Crassus’s eyebrows twitched.
“You reported it to the Senate?”
“Of course. I sent a letter right after I wiped out all the remnants.”
Pompey was certain that Crassus would show signs of emotional turmoil.
Crassus was undeniably the central figure in this war. The rebellion had caused significant damage in the south and had escalated beyond a mere slave uprising. It was a matter too important for the Senate to ignore.
Pompey, however, did not report that he had ended the rebellion completely. He portrayed himself as a supporter of Crassus, who was the main actor in suppressing the rebellion. Even though Pompey had taken some of the military credit that should have belonged to Crassus, he was indifferent to Crassus’s potential anger.
Pompey’s real reason for coming was to check Crassus’s reaction. But Crassus’s response was completely different from what Pompey had anticipated. Instead of anger, Crassus simply took a breath, sipped some diluted wine, and made an unexpected remark.
“That’s quite a coincidence. I just sent a report to the Senate myself. If there is to be a triumph, the honor should clearly go to Pompey Magnus.”
Pompey’s expression changed to one of disbelief and shock. He had secretly hoped for a more passionate reaction from Crassus.