‘What are you doing?’ Spittle flew from Varus’ lips as he stood. ‘Have you gone entirely mad?’
‘Not quite. Tell your major domo to get the brute at the entrance to surrender his club. He is to open the front door and allow my companions in. My friend is to tie up the brute, and then return here with the girl.’
‘You are insane,’ hissed Varus.
‘Maybe I am.’ Carbo pushed the broken glass against his uncle’s skin until it drew blood. There was a loud squawk of pain. ‘I will happily shove this in all the way,’ he murmured. ‘Just keep answering me back.’
‘Y-you heard him,’ Varus wheezed at the major domo, whose complexion had gone pasty. ‘Do as he says! Quickly!’
The grey-haired slave hurried off.
‘C-can I sit down?’ asked Varus. ‘I feel faint.’
‘Fine.’ Carbo released his grip and let his uncle slide, shaking, back on to his chair. ‘Don’t move.’
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Shut up.’
‘Carbo-’
‘I said, shut your fat mouth! It would give me extreme pleasure to see you bleed out, you overblown piece of offal.’ Carbo’s mind was full of images of his parents, and his heart was full of sorrow and shame. Killing his uncle might not make that pain go away, but it would help.
Varus heard the threat in his voice, and subsided.
It wasn’t long before the major domo arrived with a grim-faced Spartacus and Tulla in tow. The Thracian smiled when he saw Carbo. ‘I have tied up the doorman, and locked the door. No one is going anywhere without my say so.’ He waved a set of keys. ‘This isn’t the kind of welcome I expected.’
‘Nor I,’ replied Carbo harshly. ‘But my parents are both dead. Uncle Varus here’ — he gestured with the jagged piece of glass — ‘is the only family I have remaining. Not that that means he is dear to me, because he is not. After my mother died a few months ago, he put my father out on the street. In his grief, he took to drink. He was murdered a week ago.’
‘I am sorry,’ said Spartacus. He gave Varus a pitiless look, and returned his gaze to Carbo. ‘So here is as good a place as any for us to stay.’
‘Yes.’
‘Good thinking.’
‘You must be really rich,’ said Tulla, eyeing Carbo’s uncle with not a small amount of awe.
Varus glowered in response. The urchin took a step backwards.
Carbo knew that Tulla had probably been kicked out of the way by men such as his uncle all her life. He poked Varus with the glass. ‘Answer the girl. Politely.’
‘I suppose you could say that I am wealthy, yes,’ said Varus sullenly.
‘Thought so,’ said Tulla in a grave tone. She wandered off, trailing a hand in a water channel that fed the plants.
Carbo grinned. Tulla had given him an idea. ‘Do you keep any cash in the house?’
‘A-a little, maybe. Not much.’ Varus’ eyes flickered as he spoke.
‘You’re lying.’ Carbo glanced at Spartacus. ‘Isn’t he?’
‘Definitely.’
‘We could do with the money, eh?’
‘Gold always comes in useful.’ Spartacus was more concerned with getting out of the city unharmed, but he saw that Carbo needed to do this. He would act in much the same way if he ever saw Kotys again.
Carbo’s anger towards his uncle had gone ice cold. He took hold of one of Varus’ hands and pulled it down on to the table. He raised the stump of glass high. ‘I’m going to count to three. If you haven’t answered by then, I will stick your fat fucking hand to the wood. One.’
Varus’ jowls wobbled with terror.
‘Two.’
‘All right, all right! There’s a box under a loose tile in the lararium.’
‘Tulla!’
Spartacus’ explanation of what to look for sent the girl sprinting off.
Carbo released his uncle’s hand, which seemed to give Varus some courage. ‘So you came here to rob and murder me, is that it?’
‘Weren’t you listening?’ asked Spartacus. ‘We need somewhere to stay.’
‘I–I don’t understand.’
‘I wanted to spend the night with my parents,’ said Carbo. ‘That’s why I came to your miserable bloody house.’
‘I see.’ Varus looked awkward. ‘You didn’t know that they were dead.’
‘How could I have known?’ spat Carbo.
‘Look!’ Tulla’s beam stretched from ear to ear. In her arms she bore a small iron box. ‘It’s full of gold coins and jewels!’
‘We’ll take that with us,’ said Spartacus with a wink at Carbo.
‘Have it all,’ cried Varus eagerly. ‘You’ll be able to afford the best tavern in Rome.’
Spartacus’ smile vanished. ‘We’ll stay here.’
Varus’ mouth opened to protest, but then he thought better of it. ‘Who are you?’ he whispered.
‘I am Spartacus.’
Varus’ eyes darted to Carbo, who nodded in confirmation. ‘S-Spartacus?’
‘That’s right.’
Varus’ face went even paler. ‘But you’re supposed to be with your army, near Venusia.’
‘Clearly, I’m not.’
‘Jupiter above, you’ll torture me to death!’
‘Is that what they say I do to my prisoners?’
Varus nodded fearfully. ‘Terrible, terrible things.’
‘It happens with every army — even Roman ones,’ interjected Carbo. ‘Spartacus tries to stop it.’
‘Don’t waste your breath,’ said Spartacus wearily. ‘He won’t believe you.’
Looking at the fear and loathing smeared all over his uncle’s face, Carbo knew the Thracian’s words to be true. At that moment, part of him wanted to bury the piece of glass in Varus’ heart. There was something more important that he could ensure was done, however. ‘Where are my parents buried?’
‘Your mother lies in the Varus family tomb, and your father’ — Varus licked his lips unhappily — ‘is in a simple grave in the public cemetery.’
‘You filth!’ Carbo’s rage surged out of control, and he slashed Varus across the cheek. ‘Even in death you could not treat my father with honour!’
Varus collapsed howling to the ground with blood pouring from between his fingers.
‘I ought to slay you right here,’ Carbo shouted, pulling Varus up by the front of his tunic.
‘There is another way.’
Spartacus’ voice penetrated Carbo’s fury. ‘Eh?’
‘You could make him swear to erect a fine tomb for both your parents, and to have them reinterred there.’
Carbo heard the wisdom in Spartacus’ words and loved him for it. Despite his ruthlessness, the Thracian cared for him. He let the moaning Varus fall again. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘A tomb, yes, for your parents. It will be the finest I can have built-’
‘It doesn’t need to be the finest. Just make it fitting to their station.’
‘I will, I swear it. If I do not, may Jupiter strike me down.’
‘If you do not,’ growled Spartacus, ‘I will come back and feed you your own prick and balls.’
Varus’ jowls wobbled again, and a fat tear actually ran down each cheek. ‘I understand,’ he whispered.
Carbo’s rage subsided a little. At least he could now rest in the knowledge that they would lie together in a decent tomb. With luck, one day he would be afforded the opportunity to visit it.
One day.
After what they had heard earlier, it seemed a slim hope.
Chapter X
When Ariadne woke again, the position of the sunlight on the tent told her that it was late afternoon. The churring of the cicadas was louder than ever, but the heat of the day had begun to abate. She gazed down at Maron, who was asleep on her chest. ‘My son,’ she whispered.
Hearing her voice, the midwife came fussing over. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Tired, but well.’
The old woman lifted the blanket and checked between her legs. ‘Good. There’s only been a little bleeding. In the morning, I’ll get you up.’ She grinned, revealing lines of brown pegs. ‘Word gets around fast. Hundreds of soldiers have already been asking to see Spartacus’ son. Atheas has had to post sentries to stop them approaching the tent.’