‘Leave her alone, you bastard!’ shouted Getas.
One of the guards kicked him in the belly, and Phortis delivered another mighty slap to Ariadne’s face.
She slumped back on to the floor, unable to stop him from forcing her legs apart. He moved up to crouch over her, and she felt his stiffness pressing against her groin. ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment since I clapped eyes on you.’ With that, he leaned down to kiss her on the lips. Ariadne closed her eyes as the Capuan forced his tongue into her mouth. She tried with all her willpower to bite off the probing piece of flesh, but there was no power in her jaws. A heartbeat later, the magnitude of her ordeal was amplified a thousandfold when Phortis shoved his pelvis forward and tried to enter her.
Nausea and revulsion washed over Ariadne in a great tide — as it had so many times in her childhood. All at once, she felt an overwhelming need to vomit. She gagged; Phortis recoiled, and then she was sick all over her front. Little spatters of puke flew up to cover his face.
I wish you’d drown in it, you cocksucker.
Phortis used the arm of his tunic to wipe off the worst of the gobbets before leering down at her. ‘You dirty bitch! That’s only whetted my appetite.’ With a deep grunt, he pushed himself inside her and began to thrust to and fro.
Ariadne gasped with the shock and pain of it. She wasn’t surprised, when she looked up again, to see her father’s face instead of Phortis’. She saw the same lust twisting his features. The same glitter in his cold, dead eyes. Heard the same animal noises of pleasure leaving his lips. ‘I hate you,’ she hissed. ‘I always did, and I always will.’
‘Huh?’
She blinked. Phortis had reappeared. ‘I call down a curse on your miserable head,’ she breathed. ‘May Dionysus’ maenads stalk your every footstep. The moment that you stumble, they will swarm all over you, and rend your flesh to shreds. Nothing will be left of you but a grinning skull and a jumble of gnawed bones.’ Ariadne saw the fear mushroom in Phortis’ eyes, felt him shrivel inside her, and somehow she dragged a manic laugh from the bottom of her lungs. ‘Call yourself a man? You’re nothing but a limp-pricked pig!’
This time, it was Phortis’ turn to recoil. Ariadne’s reprieve lasted no more than a heartbeat, however. He drew back his right arm to strike her again. She closed her eyes, and steeled herself against the pain that would follow.
‘Phortis!’
Ariadne felt the Capuan tense. His blow did not fall.
‘Phortis, where are you, damn it? Crassus is about to leave. We still have much to discuss.’ Batiatus sounded irritated.
Phortis grabbed Ariadne’s chin and forced her to look at him. ‘You’re in luck, you whore. Next time, you won’t be so fortunate. And don’t think that there won’t be a next time! I’ll be watching you, from dawn till dusk. Spartacus and his pathetic rabble can’t watch over you every moment of every day. A gag in your mouth will stop you from spewing your poison. If you should choke to death on your vomit while I fuck you, no one would be better pleased than I.’
‘Phortis!’ yelled Batiatus.
‘I’m coming, master!’ Adjusting his clothing, the Capuan got to his feet. He glared at the guards. ‘Untie those two. Follow me out when you hear me move off with Batiatus.’ With a final, malevolent look at Ariadne, he was gone.
Overcome by her pain, her shame and her terror, Ariadne lapsed into the oblivion that had been threatening to overcome her.
When Ariadne awoke, her head felt as if someone was pounding a pair of lump hammers off it. A thin, thready pulse beat off the back of her eyelids. She opened her eyes, and a wave of nausea swept through her. She retched, and at once someone — the surgeon? — rolled her on to her side, placing the cold lip of a vessel to her lips. ‘Let it out. Let it all out.’
After a moment, it was clear that there was little left in Ariadne’s stomach to come up. The bowl was taken away, and she was moved on to her back again. ‘Spartacus,’ she croaked.
‘I’m here,’ he said gently.
Her eyes swivelled, finding him only a step away, right behind the surgeon. ‘Thank the gods,’ she whispered.
His smile was supposed to be reassuring, but the worry was etched clearly on his face as he turned to the Greek. ‘Well?’
‘I couldn’t feel any breaks in her skull, but it’s far too early to say if there’s been any lasting damage,’ muttered the surgeon. ‘She needs to stay in bed for at least a day and a night.’
Lasting damage? thought Ariadne in amazement. There was a fuzzy edge to her vision, and her headache was excruciating, but she could feel her strength beginning to return. ‘How long was I unconscious?’
‘Long enough. Phortis is an animal!’ replied the surgeon savagely. He handed Spartacus a glass phial. ‘She must take a sip of this every hour. Call for me if there’s any deterioration in her condition. I’ll check on her later.’ He disappeared from view.
‘Gods.’ Ariadne finally recognised the interior of their cell. ‘You carried me in here?’
‘Yes, after Getas came screaming for me like a madman. He told me what had happened.’ Shame coated Spartacus’ every feature, and he hung his head. ‘I’m sorry. I failed you. I should have been there.’
‘You were having your arm seen to,’ she chided. ‘How were you to know that Phortis would attack me then? Getas or Seuthes aren’t to blame either.’ Panic seized her. ‘You haven’t done something to them, have you?’
Spartacus’ sheer fury twisted his good looks into something bestial. Something primeval. It was truly terrifying. ‘Not yet,’ he grated. ‘But they will pay, have no fear of that.’
‘No.’ Forcing away her weakness, Ariadne took his arm. ‘You must not. They were only following your orders, to check the baths before I went in. Phortis sent in six men to tie them up while he attacked me.’
‘So what?’ he spat. ‘They should still have protected you.’
‘Getas and Seuthes are not gods, they’re men. Just like you. They’re also your most loyal followers. And they are your friends.’ Seeing him flinch, Ariadne gentled her voice. ‘Knowing they failed will make them both twice as determined not to make the same mistake again.’
He nodded slowly. ‘They’ve sworn to die rather than let anything happen to you ever again.’
‘Forgive them then,’ she urged.
‘I have to forgive myself for what happened.’ Spartacus let out a heavy sigh. ‘So I suppose I can give the fools a second chance.’ His brows lowered. ‘As for that bastard Phortis! He will die screaming for his mother. Soon.’
‘Good. I want to watch him suffer too. But-’
‘I know.’ Regret replaced the fury. ‘There can be no quick revenge. He’ll be waiting for that. Just like he’ll be looking for another opportunity to-’ Spartacus’ jaw clenched. ‘Did he actually…?’ he asked without looking at her. ‘Getas and Seuthes couldn’t see, but they heard…’
Emotion closed Ariadne’s throat, but she wrenched it open. Spartacus deserved to know. ‘He did, briefly.’
‘The goat-fucking, yellow-livered, spineless son of a whore!’ The veins in Spartacus’ neck bulged dangerously. ‘I’ll cut off his prick and feed it to him!’
‘I’m alive. I’ll recover,’ she murmured, forgetting for a moment her own pain. ‘It’s not as if it hasn’t happened to me before.’
His jaw dropped. ‘Who? When? How?’
She couldn’t look at him. ‘My father. All through my childhood. It only stopped when I went to train in Kabyle.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stroking her hand. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘No one does. You’re the first person I’ve ever told.’ She managed a tiny glance at him before her shame dragged her eyes away again.
‘What kind of monster was he?’ Spartacus raised his right fist and clenched it until the flesh went white. ‘If the bastard was here, I’d make him pay!’ His gaze flickered back to Ariadne. He took in some of the suffering in her eyes. ‘Let’s not talk about him, or Phortis.’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Just hold my hand, please.’
‘Of course.’ He squeezed her fingers.