When the food was almost ready, Hamilcar did not immediately take it out. Instead, he had Maximus call in a few of the more respected gladiators, like Antonix, Enomai, and Torquato, to distribute the food.
"If we take this food out ourselves, the brothers who are already starving will surely swarm us, and it will turn into chaos. But if Enomai and the others distribute it, no one will dare to snatch it. In the army, it's usually the centurion who leads the team's slaves to distribute food among the soldiers. We just got out, and haven't established any rules yet, but it will get better in the future," Hamilcar patiently explained to Maximus.
Maximus couldn't help but ask, "I remember Spartacus once said that you used to serve in the Roman Army?"
Hamilcar was silent for a moment before speaking in a heavy voice, "That's right. We were once recruited because we coveted Roman money, but that greed led to the destruction of our entire tribe!"
Hearing the coldness in Hamilcar's voice, Maximus felt his hair stand on end and dared not press further. Instead, he asked, "According to the standards of the Roman Army, how many people would it take to prepare dinner for a group like ours?"
Hamilcar thought for a moment and replied, "In a Roman legion, each ten-man team has two slave soldiers who handle miscellaneous tasks, and they are mostly responsible for preparing food. For our group of about 250 people, according to their standards, we would need fifty people to prepare a meal. But the Roman legion is demanding; for us, twenty people are enough to do the job."
At this point, he looked at Maximus with satisfaction. "I'm glad you asked this question. It shows you're seriously thinking about the issue of feeding us, unlike those guys this morning. When I asked them to help out, they were all so unwilling. All they know is how to kill—they're utterly useless at anything else. You're different!"
Maximus modestly responded, "I just think that no matter how brave we are, if we can't eat our fill, we won't have the strength to defeat the enemy."
"You're absolutely right. A unit's food supply is crucial! The Romans are despicable, but their efforts in this respect are unmatched by any other force."
Hamilcar sighed with emotion. It was rare for someone to take an interest in his thoughts, so his enthusiasm grew. He immediately pulled Maximus to sit by the kitchen door, had a slave bring over two bowls of lamb soup, and tore off a large piece of hot bread. As they ate, he continued, "What I just mentioned is a rough estimate. The actual number of people needed to prepare food for an army depends on the circumstances. If there's no danger nearby, and the kitchen and food are ready, like they are for us now, ten people can handle the needs of over 200 people because we have time to prepare slowly. But if we're on the march or in enemy territory, it's a whole different situation…"
Maximus listened intently to Hamilcar's explanation, learning much about the intricacies of logistics. For instance, why armies transported wheat instead of flour—it was easier to store. This was why Roman Army slaves often carried hand mills for grinding grain...
Though Hamilcar was usually amiable and not much of a talker, Maximus's questions hit a nerve with him. Once he began, he couldn't stop. Eventually, a gladiator came to inform him that Spartacus needed to discuss something with him. Only then did he reluctantly stand up and say, "Maximus, I'll leave things here to you. Is that okay?"
"No problem," Maximus replied readily. After Hamilcar left, he turned to look at the people inside the kitchen. They had been working non-stop for over three hours and were all drenched in sweat. Antonix and the others had stopped coming to urge for food, suggesting the gladiators were likely full.
"Take a break, everyone. Eat something to regain your strength," Maximus said. As soon as his words fell, the people in the kitchen immediately dropped their utensils and grabbed bread to eat.
After filling their stomachs and easing their hunger, they no longer devoured their food like wolves. Maximus walked over to one slave he had been observing—the hardest worker among them. "Why didn't you want to join us earlier?"
The slave looked up blankly.
"You're a slave, driven every day like cattle and sheep by your master. If you join us, no one will dare boss you around. You'll have lamb soup to drink and bread to eat every day. You'd be free. Why wouldn't you want that?" Maximus asked in confusion.
The slave lowered his head and, after a long time, muttered, "…I don't want to be nailed to a cross by the Romans."
Maximus didn't get angry. Instead, he turned to another nearby slave—the one who had been the laziest, warned several times by Hamilcar. "What about you?"
"Me…" The slave's eyes darted around before he answered, "My master treats me very well. I don't even feel like a slave. Why would I leave?"
Maximus was half-skeptical about his response.
At that moment, an old man nearby looked at Maximus and spoke seriously. "I was a slave too, raised in the household of Dionysius. My master truly treated me like family. After that great war decades ago, the Romans recognized all Italians as Roman citizens, and Roman Law extended to all Italian towns, including Napolet. My master spent his own money to purchase my freedom. Years later, when I met the qualifications, my master applied to the city council to make me a Roman citizen—"
Here, the old man straightened his back. "After that, my master even let me oversee this farm, paying me handsomely each month. Now I have a wife, children, and even grandchildren. These two over here—"
The old man pointed to two freedmen. "They were also slaves. With our master's permission, they were granted their freedom three years ago. And you lot, don't worry. Work hard, and one day you'll be just like us."
The old man's words sparked a memory deep within Maximus's mind. He remembered Roman Law indeed allowed slaves to gain freedom and even become Roman citizens. Yet, for a slave to save enough money to buy their freedom, it was impossible without their master's permission. However, the Romans appeared generous in this regard. One of the reasons was rooted in their ancient patronage tradition.
Patrons protected their clients politically and in daily life, while clients supported their patrons politically and militarily. This relationship was not one of absolute dependency but mutual aid and progress. The Romans upheld this ancient tradition as an unspoken rule, creating relative social stability. When slaves gained citizenship, they naturally formed a stronger patron-client bond with their former masters. Since the Roman civil war decades ago, all Italians had become Roman citizens, making this tradition prevalent across Italy, including in Napolet.
Maximus's original master had invested money and effort into elevating a lowly household slave like him, likely for the same reasons. But tragedy struck—the master's entire family was killed, leaving Maximus in his current plight… If all slaves in Italy were treated as well as those on this farm, with hope for the future and an upward path, would they still choose to rise in rebellion?
Contemplating this, Maximus felt uneasy. If that were true, could Spartacus ever ignite a full-scale slave uprising?
A whirlwind of thoughts churned in his mind, his expression alternating between light and dark. The old man, seeing this, thought Maximus might be angry at him for discouraging the slaves from joining them. Hastily, he added, "Actually, the only reason my master takes such good care of us is that there aren't enough hands here. He even has the young master come and help out sometimes, so everyone is valuable… But it's not the same on those large estates. Their fields are vast, and they own many slaves, most of whom are newly acquired. To keep them in line, the masters employ multiple overseers, sometimes even enforcers, who whip and beat the slaves daily. A few years ago, there were even riots on some of those estates…"