‘You think I look bad?’ Spartacus’ gaze moved from Castus to Gannicus and back again. ‘Ha! Take a peek at Crixus next time you see the prick.’
‘Why in Hades’ name did you pick a fight with him?’ asked Castus.
‘To make the fool see sense.’
‘Sense? Crixus?’ Gannicus tapped the side of his head. ‘Not much chance of that.’ He laughed, but there was no humour in his eyes.
‘My tactic worked.’
In the silence that followed, Carbo saw the two leaders lean forward with interest. He glanced at Spartacus, realising that his delay in continuing was deliberate.
‘Crixus has agreed to join me and Oenomaus,’ he said at last.
‘And you want us to take part too,’ said Gannicus softly. ‘That’s why you’re here.’
‘Yes.’
‘What will you do if we refuse?’ asked Castus.
‘Kill you both.’
Carbo shot a look at Spartacus. What’s he playing at? There are at least twenty Gauls present.
Castus’ nostrils pinched white. ‘You dare to threaten us in front of our men?’
‘We could have you slain on the spot,’ threatened Gannicus. His eyes flickered, and several Gauls took a step towards them.
Spartacus didn’t even turn his head, and Carbo marvelled at his cool. He was fighting an overwhelming urge to piss.
‘Killing us would be easy. I knew that when I walked in the door,’ revealed Spartacus. ‘But I came in with only Carbo because I know that you won’t want to miss out on our opportunity.’ He paused. ‘Did you know that Crassus is going to buy twenty gladiators from Batiatus? To fight in mortal combats?’
‘What?’ cried Castus. Despite his diminutive size, he was one of the top fighters in the ludus. Gannicus was also clearly unhappy. His expression was mirrored by many of the men around the pool.
‘Ask any of the guards.’
‘Supposing it’s true,’ said Castus. ‘Why would that make us join you? We have no weapons, and all Batiatus’ men have bows. It’d be a slaughter.’
‘No, it wouldn’t!’ Spartacus replied contemptuously. ‘What can thirty guards do if nearly two hundred gladiators set upon them? Fuck all! We will succeed.’
Castus and Gannicus stared at each other. Carbo could tell that neither wanted to make the first move. Yet the eager muttering that had broken out among their men had to be answered. He felt Spartacus nudge him. ‘Now’s your chance.’ Loudly, Spartacus said, ‘Listen to the new auctoratus. He’s a local.’
Carbo cleared his throat. ‘There’s a huge mountain not far from here. Vesuvius, it’s called. It’s flat-topped, and hard to climb. It would be a good place to hide out. The land around it is given over to large farms, which would provide us with plenty of food and equipment.’
‘And women!’ cried a Gaul.
Carbo gaped. He hadn’t considered that option, and didn’t know how to answer.
Spartacus did. This hadn’t been his game plan, but it was imperative that Castus and Gannicus gave him their support. ‘There’ll be lots of women to be had. Plump ones. Skinny ones. Field slaves. Domestic slaves. More than any of you can fuck!’
A vociferous growl of approval met these words.
‘Well, when you put it like that,’ said Gannicus, leering, ‘it’s hard to refuse.’
His men began to cheer.
Yes! Spartacus’ gaze swivelled to Castus, who shrugged. ‘I’m sure my lot wouldn’t want to miss out. Would you, lads?’
The walls resounded with the din of a score or more of men bellowing in unison.
Spartacus raised his hands and, to Carbo’s surprise, the noise diminished at once.
‘If Batiatus or Phortis hear a word of this, we’ll be royally fucked.’
‘My boys can keep their mouths shut,’ said Gannicus.
‘Mine too.’ Castus’ eyes reminded Carbo of a snake’s. ‘Anyone who doesn’t will end up with his throat cut.’
‘Excellent. We’ll talk later, before we’re locked in for the night.’
‘When do we make our move?’ asked Castus.
The room went deathly silent.
‘There’s no point hanging about,’ Spartacus replied. ‘Tomorrow or the next day.’
‘You move fast,’ said Castus.
‘It’s too dangerous to delay. There’s always at least one rat in the grain store.’
‘I know what you mean,’ growled Castus. ‘I vote for tomorrow.’
‘Me too,’ added Gannicus keenly.
‘I’m not going to argue with that. The moment that they hand out the practice weapons then,’ answered Spartacus with a tight smile. Thank you, Great Rider!
Carbo waited until they were safely outside before he said anything. ‘You promised them indiscriminate rape!’
‘Of course I did.’
‘That’s barbaric!’
Spartacus stopped dead in his tracks. ‘You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to, boy.’
Carbo’s heart pounded. He didn’t want to be left behind. ‘No. I’m coming,’ he muttered.
‘Fine. Next time I want advice on tactics, I’ll ask you.’
Carbo coloured, and said nothing.
‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t like the idea of it either. But it’s going to happen anyway, no matter what. I won’t encourage it, but that’s how war is. All I did was to use the idea to turn the tide in my favour. If I hadn’t, Castus and Gannicus could well have refused to join me.’ Spartacus clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Us.’
‘I understand,’ said Carbo, feeling better.
Spartacus grinned. ‘Good.’
The hours that followed were the longest of Spartacus’ life. He did not want to be training, or running around the yard. Instead, he burned to be outside the high walls that surrounded him. Breathing the free air. Clapping his eyes on Vesuvius. He even pictured himself returning to Thrace. He had to make do with imagining it all, however. And trying not to dwell on his dream about the snake.
Spartacus waited until training was over for the day before talking to the Scythians who’d travelled with him from Illyria. While he wasn’t exactly friendly with them, Spartacus didn’t want the quartet to be completely in the dark about what would happen the next day. He approached them at the evening meal. To his surprise, the tattooed warriors greeted him with welcoming gestures. Spartacus didn’t know if they had learned sufficient Latin to understand his words, but their eager grunts of agreement soon proved different.
After dinner, it was as much as Spartacus could do to briefly talk with Oenomaus and Crixus before Phortis began ordering the gladiators back into their cells, much earlier than normal. Protests and curses filled the air. The Capuan’s reason, as he screamed repeatedly, was the three bodies that had been found in the toilets. Clearly, some men had given Castus and Gannicus cause for concern.
The best that Spartacus could manage was a meaningful look in Oenomaus’, Gavius’ and Crixus’ direction. He was reassured somewhat by the fierce grins that they flashed at him in return, but there had been no time to discuss who would do what when it all started. They’ll just have to follow my orders, he thought, praying that the five other leaders would comply. If one or more disagreed, it could prove disastrous.
Ariadne rushed to his side as he entered. ‘What’s been happening?’
‘A lot. Almost everyone is in. There should be around a hundred and eighty of us, all told.’ He threw her a smile. ‘More than enough.’
‘And the rest?’
‘We didn’t involve them. The stakes are too high. They don’t have standout leaders; they speak different languages. The room for misunderstanding is huge.’
‘That’s wise. When is it to be?’
‘In the morning, the moment that they distribute the practice weapons. There’s no point in waiting.’
‘That’s true. Seize the day,’ Ariadne said, yet inside, she was terrified. Protect us all, O Great Dionysus. Let us escape safely.
r /> ‘When it starts, you are to stay in here until I call you outside,’ Spartacus ordered. ‘Is that clear?’
‘I—’
‘No, Ariadne! It will be far too dangerous.’
Seeing the steel in his eyes, she nodded meekly. ‘Very well.’
‘By tomorrow evening, we’ll be sitting around a fire, enjoying our first night of freedom,’ Spartacus said confidently, refusing to imagine any other outcome.
Ariadne thought she was going to be sick. What if it all goes wrong?
‘Aren’t you pleased?’ Have you seen something? he wanted to ask.
‘I can’t wait,’ she managed. The gods grant that it will be so.
Spartacus did not ask why she was ill at ease. If I am to die tomorrow, I don’t want to know.
The next morning, the cock’s familiar crowing was most welcome. The waiting is almost over. Rolling over, Spartacus found Ariadne looking at him.
‘Ready?’
‘Yes.’ He scanned her face for clues. ‘Did anything come to you?’
‘No, nothing,’ she said lightly. My worries kept me tossing and turning instead. Yet, on this of all days, I have to show you the most confident face I have. ‘And you?’
‘No dreams that I can remember, thank the Rider.’ His lips quirked. ‘I was awake for much of the night. I fell asleep just before that damn bird started to call. I was glad to hear it, though. I couldn’t have taken much more in the way of killing time.’
‘I feel the same.’ Not until we are actually outside the ludus’ walls will I believe the gods are still with us.
‘If I am killed—’
‘Don’t talk like that.’ Her eyes brimmed with instant tears.
‘It’s stupid not to consider the possibility of my dying. If Getas and Seuthes aren’t also slain, they will look after you. Failing that, use the money in my purse to get to the east coast. Take a ship to Illyria, and make your way home to Thrace.’
‘To Kotys and the welcome he’ll give me?’ Ariadne replied, more harshly than she’d intended. ‘No thanks. I’ll use my snake on myself.’
‘You’re a true Thracian,’ he said respectfully. ‘I’m proud to have you as my wife.’
Ariadne blushed to the roots of her hair.
Clack, clack, clack. Phortis’ sword rattled off the bars of the cells on the far side of the yard. ‘Wake up, you whoresons! It’s another beautiful day.’
Spartacus sprang up off the bed. Throwing on his tunic, he waited patiently until the Capuan reached their barred window.
‘Pull your prick out of your woman, latro! It’s time to get up.’
Ariadne shuddered. The man was vile – less cold-blooded than her snake but, in his own way, as venomous.
Spartacus didn’t give Phortis the satisfaction of a reply. ‘Have you got my breakfast ready?’ he shouted.
A chorus of laughs rose up from the fighters within earshot.
‘Count yourself lucky that there’s any food at all!’ snapped Phortis. Unlocking the door, he moved on.
‘May the gods watch over you,’ whispered Ariadne.
‘Thank you.’ Spartacus gave her a broad smile, which belied his churning stomach. Stay by my side, Great Rider. Pushing wide the portal, he stepped into the yard. All around him, dozens of other gladiators were emerging from their cells. It was a crisp spring morning. The area of sky framed by the ludus’ high walls was entirely clear of cloud. Spartacus admired it. He had a good feeling in his guts.
‘Hungry?’
Turning, Spartacus saw Restio leaning against the wall. The Iberian’s face was an unhealthy grey colour, and he had big rings under his eyes. ‘You look awful. Didn’t sleep?’
‘Not a wink,’ Restio muttered. ‘Did you?’
‘Not bad,’ lied Spartacus. Restio was one of the few men who hadn’t been told about the escape attempt. Why would you care how I slept? A memory tickled at Spartacus, but Carbo, Getas and Seuthes joined him, and he put it to one side. ‘Come on,’ he said to Restio. ‘Some porridge in your belly will make you feel better.’
Stepping out into the yard proper, Spartacus felt a prickle of unease. The balcony above was lined with guards. He glanced sidelong at Restio, who appeared unconcerned. He wasn’t surprised that Carbo hadn’t noticed, but Getas and Seuthes were already scowling.
‘Practically every shitbag Batiatus employs is up there,’ hissed Getas in his ear. ‘And there are far more men on the gate than normal.’
Spartacus grunted. Someone’s told Batiatus, or Phortis.
They joined the queue for the porridge. Oenomaus was at the end of the line with his closest henchmen. One of them immediately engaged Restio in a conversation about money. Spartacus moved closer to Oenomaus, relieved that the Iberian could no longer hear what he said.
‘Seen the extra company we’ve got?’ growled the German.
‘Yes.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I’m not sure. There’s nothing that we can do right now anyway. Let’s eat and see what happens.’
With a noncommittal look, Oenomaus turned his back on them.
Spartacus frowned. Were the Germans still with him? Oenomaus’ men crowded around him, preventing any further chat. ‘Seen Crixus?’
‘He’s over there,’ said Getas, jerking his head at the furthest benches.
Spartacus was about to leave the queue when something made him look around. Phortis was staring at him with naked aggression. Something’s definitely not right. Rather than make his way over to Crixus, he shuffled forward with the rest.
‘Look, it’s the latro! Come for some porridge?’ cried Phortis.
Silently, Spartacus picked up a bowl and held it out.
Phortis leaned over and grabbed it before the kitchen slave had even lifted his ladle from the pot. ‘I’ll take that,’ he said. Clearing his throat, he spat a large gob of phlegm into the dish. ‘Fill it up,’ he ordered. A moment later, he handed the steaming bowl to Spartacus. ‘With my compliments.’
Spartacus’ blood pounded in his ears, and all sound died away. He was so incensed that his entire world shrank to a narrow tunnel before him. At its end was the smirking Phortis, his lips moving in more insults. Spartacus felt his mouth twist into a snarl. It would be so easy. Just dash the bowl in his face, leap over the table and smash the whoreson to a pulp.
He forced his eyelids into a blink, and came crashing back to reality. ‘Thank you.’ Without meeting the Capuan’s gaze, Spartacus reached out and took the bowl. He didn’t see the two guards on the balcony behind him lowering their bows, nor the fleeting look of disappointment on Restio’s face.
‘Fucking coward,’ Phortis snarled.
We’ll see about that. Externally, Spartacus didn’t even register the insult. He walked off and sat down beside the four Scythians, who threw him eager grins. Carbo, Getas and Seuthes plonked themselves alongside. Their table was nowhere near those of Crixus or Oenomaus, but he didn’t dare approach them. From the corner of his eye, he could see Phortis still glaring at him. Spartacus dipped his spoon into the top layer of porridge and took a mouthful, swallowing the thick liquid without even tasting it.
‘Why did he do that?’ Oddly, Restio had joined him again.
‘The fucker enjoys goading me.’ What do you care, anyway?
‘Why?’
‘He’s tried to rape Ariadne once already,’ said Spartacus. ‘If I were beaten unconscious by the guards, I wouldn’t be able to stop him when he tries again.’ More likely, it would foil the escape attempt before it even started. If the Thracians were no longer part of the equation, would the other leaders risk their men’s lives? I doubt it.
‘Dirty bastard,’ said Restio sympathetically.
Spartacus ate some more porridge from the top of the bowl. When Phortis was finally distracted, he emptied the rest on to the sand by his feet. Spartacus’ nerves were wire-taut, killing any appetite he might have had. Ignoring Restio’s attempts at conversation, he sat in silence until breakfast had
stopped being served.
Time for the trainers to appear, and the room containing the practice weapons to be unlocked. Long moments dragged by, and nothing happened. Carrying the empty porridge pot, the slave had vanished into the depths of the kitchen. Phortis was nowhere to be seen. It’s just a short delay. Yet Spartacus could see his unease mirrored on many of the gladiators’ faces.
He hadn’t sneaked a look at the guards for a short time. Seated under the walkway, he could only see the ones at the far end of the balcony. Glancing upwards, Spartacus’ heart stopped. Why did they have arrows notched to their bowstrings? They surely weren’t alone acting in such a manner. He could taste bile in the back of his throat now. We’ve definitely been betrayed.
All at once, things began to happen very fast.
Batiatus appeared on the balcony, Phortis by his side. Both men’s faces were hard. Cold.
Spartacus clenched his fists. He wasn’t going to back out now. Even if the Germans and Gauls don’t join in. He tensed, preparing to leap up and roar at the Thracians to run for the stairs.
There was a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision. Spartacus glanced to his left, and was startled to see one of the Scythians hurtling over the table at him. There was no time to move. The bearded warrior crashed into him, driving them both backwards, to the sand. In the same instant, Spartacus felt something strike the Scythian in the back. The man grunted in pain, and went limp. Is he dead? Angry voices shouted and Spartacus could sense a struggle going on overhead.
Abruptly, the body was hauled off him. Getas and another of the Scythians filled his vision. The warrior offered his hand. ‘Quick! We go now. Quick!’
Spartacus scrambled up. ‘What the hell happened?’ he cried. The warrior who’d leaped on top of him lay at his feet. There was a filed-down length of iron protruding from the middle of his back. Restio lay beside him, with a similar weapon jutting from his chest. His mouth worked loosely, letting a thin stream of bloody bubbles fall. His face bore a faintly surprised look.
‘Iberian want … kill you,’ growled the second Scythian. ‘My friend stop him. Took … blade meant for you. When the others see … they attack the guards. We must go!’