Carbo’s lightning-fast response caught everyone off guard, Spartacus most of all. Even as Carbo reeled backwards, he thrust around the side of his shield, driving the point of his weapon into Spartacus’ bare midriff. The Thracian doubled over with pain. He had the wits to pull close his shield and shuffle backwards but even so, Carbo was on him like a dog on a rat. He rained down a flurry of blows, aiming for Spartacus’ head. Maybe I can win this!
‘No!’ whispered Ariadne in horror. It was easy to imagine that the bout was real.
A few men began cheering for Carbo. ‘What odds will you give me on the Roman now?’ demanded a Samnite.
Restio recovered his betmaker’s poise fast. ‘The rookie’s wasting his time. Everyone knows that Thracians’ skulls are incredibly thick. Spartacus probably doesn’t even know that Carbo’s hitting him.’ He smiled as the men around him roared with laughter.
Spartacus heard none of the exchange. He was concentrating on recovering the breath that had been driven from his lungs by Carbo’s first blow. The moment that the young Roman’s attack slowed, he’d strike like a snake. Fast and lethal. End this charade for once and for all.
Realising that his assault was having little effect, Carbo swung his right arm down. Trying to repeat his earlier success, he made a desperate thrust at Spartacus’ abdomen. This time, however, the Thracian was ready for him. With a powerful sideswipe of his shield, he smashed Carbo’s blade up and out of the way. In the same instant, Spartacus launched a massive swing at the other’s head. His gladius connected with a loud, metallic clang, and Carbo staggered away, his vision blurred, and with a huge dent in his bronze helmet.
Take that, you bastard, thought Spartacus.
Many of the gladiators cheered loudly. Ariadne joined in.
Carbo adjusted his helmet and shook his shoulders. What in Hades should I do now? There was no possible way that he could beat Spartacus. But I can still impress Batiatus.
‘Game over,’ announced Restio with satisfaction. ‘Why bother with swordsmanship when brute force will do?’
Spartacus sauntered towards his opponent. ‘Ready to surrender?’
Carbo raised his sword and shield determinedly. ‘No,’ he said, his voice muffled by his helmet. Jupiter, help me.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ growled Spartacus in a low voice.
‘Piss off.’ Carbo didn’t back away either, nor did he drop his weapon. Instead, he slid his bare feet across the sand, moving towards Spartacus with just as much intent as he’d shown earlier. He wasn’t aware quite how dangerous the Thracian was, however.
Powering forward, Spartacus swept away Carbo’s thrust as easily as he’d have swatted a fly. Dropping his right shoulder, he smashed his shield into the other’s, sending Carbo sprawling to the ground. Spartacus stooped and shoved the point of his sword right under the lower edge of Carbo’s helmet. ‘Yield!’
Carbo shook his head. Batiatus has to see that I’m no coward.
‘What’s he doing?’ hissed Restio. ‘Does the fool want to die?’
Spartacus suspected his reason for not giving in. His pride won’t let him. Sometimes, death is preferable to dishonour. ‘Yield!’ he repeated.
Again Carbo shook his head in refusal.
‘Finish the stupid bastard!’ roared Crixus.
‘ Iugula! Iugula! ’ shouted many of the gladiators. ‘Kill him!’
Spartacus glanced up at the balcony. There was no longer any sign of Batiatus. Phortis merely shrugged. He didn’t care whether Carbo lived or died.
The roar of ‘ Iugula ’ swelled until the very walls of the ludus rang with it.
Spartacus glanced around the square, and saw the fighters’ bloodlust. He felt it himself. The decision was down to him. His strength and the proximity of the strike meant that even with a wooden sword, Carbo ran a real risk of dying. He hardened his heart. Is that my fault? The fool had had two chances, and refused both. If he didn’t follow through now, the other gladiators would see him as weak. He’s only a fucking Roman after all. With a snarl, Spartacus pulled back his right arm.
Suddenly, Carbo realised that he might have pushed things too far. He clenched his teeth in bitter acceptance.
‘No,’ whispered Ariadne. ‘You can’t kill an unarmed man.’
‘ Iugula! Iugula! ’
Closing his left eye, Spartacus took aim at the small hollow at the base of Carbo’s throat. If he drove the wooden sword in hard enough there, it would kill the Roman. So be it.
‘Hold!’ bellowed Batiatus through the shouting.
Spartacus barely heard. He just managed to check himself. Confused, he squinted up at the lanista.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘He won’t give in,’ replied Spartacus. ‘And Phortis didn’t say not to.’
Batiatus rounded on the Capuan. ‘Idiot! I step away from the balcony for a moment, and this is what happens? Why didn’t you end the fight? Carbo fought well enough for a tiro. He might be inexperienced, but he’s no good to me as a damn corpse. Eh?’
‘No, sir,’ muttered Phortis. He shot a vengeful look at Spartacus.
‘Step away from him,’ ordered Batiatus.
Spartacus did as he was told.
Ariadne felt a wave of relief. The Roman would live. She glanced at Spartacus again, feeling awe, and a little fear. Gods, but he is a tough bastard.
Slowly, the Roman sat up. Thank you, Jupiter.
‘I didn’t expect you to fight so well, Carbo. But your inexperience was also obvious. You have a lot to learn,’ said the lanista. ‘The first thing should be that if you go into a fight looking to die, you’ll probably succeed.’ He smiled at the guffaws this produced.
Carbo nodded wearily. With an effort, he took off his helmet.
‘Return tomorrow. You’ll be paid your joining fee, and you can start training at once. My lawyer will have drawn up the contract by then.’ Batiatus turned and was gone.
‘The entertainment is over. Back to your training!’ Phortis shouted. He threw another venomous stare at Spartacus, but the Thracian ignored him.
Carbo’s voice broke into his reverie. ‘You were going to kill me.’
‘Of course I was, idiot. What do you expect me to do when you wouldn’t give in — try to talk you out of it?’
Carbo flushed. ‘No.’ There’s no mercy in this world.
‘You were foolish not to yield when I knocked you over,’ said Spartacus harshly, feeling a trace of remorse. He’s only a boy.
‘I see that now. I was trying to…’ Carbo hesitated.
‘You want to die? There’s no need to come here. Why not fling yourself in front of a chariot at the races? Or off a bridge into a damn river?’
‘It’s not that. I wanted to prove to Batiatus that I was brave enough,’ muttered Carbo.
‘Eh?’ Spartacus barked. ‘Well, you did that. You showed real ability too.’
Carbo blinked in surprise. ‘Ability?’ he repeated.
‘That’s what I said. Why not put it to some use?’
Carbo met Spartacus’ unwavering gaze, and saw that he was not joking. His chin lifted. ‘All right. I will.’
‘Good.’ The Roman had humility as well as courage, thought Spartacus. Despite the fact that Crixus’ and Phortis’ animosity towards him had deepened, he was glad now that he hadn’t killed Carbo. ‘Keep your mouth shut. Listen to your trainer. Watch men like Crixus, the big Gaul. Learn how they fight. If you can do that, you might still be alive in six months’ time. That’s all any of us in here can expect.’
‘Thank you.’
Spartacus stalked back to where Getas and Seuthes were standing with Amarantus. From the corner of his eye, he was aware of other gladiators giving him approving nods. Excellent. In being prepared to kill Carbo, he’d done the right thing.