‘Thank you.’
Oenomaus indicated the bench across the table from him. ‘Take a seat.’ The men opposite hastily shuffled out of the way.
Stepping around the glowering German, Spartacus walked forward. He glanced around as he sat down, checking that none of the guards appeared interested. To his relief, none were even looking in their direction. Phortis was nowhere to be seen either. All the more reason to move fast.
‘So, what do you want?’ asked Oenomaus bluntly.
He’s direct. That’s good. Spartacus glanced at the fighters to either side. ‘What I’ve got to say is private.’
‘These are my most trusted men,’ growled Oenomaus. ‘Speak your piece or piss off.’
‘Fair enough.’ Spartacus leaned closer. ‘I’m going to escape from the ludus with my followers. I wondered if you wanted to join me.’
Shock filled every face around him. Oenomaus was the first to recover. ‘Say that again.’
Spartacus took a quick look around. Still no sign of Phortis. Calmly, he repeated himself.
‘You don’t know me or what I’m capable of. How can you be sure that I won’t just turn around and tell Batiatus what you’re planning?’ demanded the German.
‘I can’t,’ replied Spartacus with a careless shrug. ‘But in my experience, a man who leads more than fifty others is not usually a rat.’
Oenomaus looked pleased. ‘You’re right about that. Go on.’
Spartacus seized his chance. ‘There are two hundred of us in the ludus. Batiatus has, what, thirty, thirty-five guards?’ He thumped one hand into the other, quietly, so that no one would see. ‘If enough of us took part, there is no way that they could stop us from seizing the armoury.’
Oenomaus’ gaze flickered to the balcony above. ‘The guards are well armed. Many men would die before we laid our hands on the weapons.’
‘Probably,’ retorted Spartacus. ‘Isn’t that better than dying in the arena to the roars of a Roman crowd?’
‘Some would say not, especially if they have survived a year or two within these walls.’ Oenomaus’ eyes were shrewd. ‘If their woman was under threat from Phortis, of course, they might feel differently.’
‘That’s not the only reason I want to escape.’
‘No?’
‘When I killed that warrior yesterday, I saw Batiatus’ and Crassus’ reactions. To them, I was no more than a circus act. Crassus said as much too.’
‘Do you not think I know that? We fight. Sometimes we are wounded. Sometimes we die. A little prize money comes our way from time to time. The best of us have a woman. It’s not much different to being a warrior in a war band.’
Have you no spine? Spartacus wanted to shout. He had the wits not to. That would be the surest way of turning the German against him. He pitched his voice low. Assertively. ‘By escaping, we would recover not only our independence and the right to determine our own fate, but our pride. Our pride!’
Oenomaus rubbed a finger along his lips, thinking.
Spartacus waited. He mustn’t push too hard.
‘It’s risky. Very risky,’ pronounced Oenomaus a moment later. ‘Who else is with you?’
The stakes were too high to lie, thought Spartacus. ‘I came to you first.’
‘No one else has said “yes” then?’
‘I have thirty-one men who will follow me to their deaths.’
‘That’s certainly what they will do if there are no more of you,’ replied Oenomaus acerbically.
‘So you won’t join me?’
‘If you manage to persuade some others, we can talk again.’ Oenomaus made a gesture of dismissal.
Spartacus raised his eyes to the heavens. Is that it? he screamed silently.
The bearded brute who’d tried to stop him talking to Oenomaus was already at his back. ‘Time to go.’
Furious, Spartacus stood. There was no point creating a scene. That would burn the foundations of any bridges he might have just built.
Oenomaus turned away to confer with one of his cronies.
‘Come on,’ growled the bearded German. He laid a hand on Spartacus’ arm.
‘Don’t touch me,’ hissed Spartacus. He was gratified when his order was actually obeyed.
He’d taken perhaps half a dozen steps when a finger of memory tickled his brain. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He spun around, alarming the bearded man. ‘Wait. I must speak with Oenomaus again.’
‘No fucking way. You had your chance.’ Ham-like fists reached out to grab Spartacus’ tunic.
Spartacus ducked back, out of the way, and then darted forward to plant a fist in the other’s solar plexus. He used all his strength. The bearded man’s mouth opened in a great ‘O’ of surprise as the air left his lungs, and he sank to his knees like a stunned ox.
There was instant uproar. Benches clattered to the ground. A dozen Germans jumped up. Weapons glinted as they were whipped out, and Spartacus knew he had the briefest instant to speak before they were buried in his flesh. ‘Oenomaus! I regret downing your man, but he wouldn’t listen to me. There is something else.’
To his surprise and relief, Oenomaus raised a hand. His glowering supporters held back. He raised an eyebrow. ‘This had better be good.’
‘It is,’ promised Spartacus. ‘As Crassus went upstairs yesterday, I heard him say that he needed twenty skilled fighters for a munus. He seemed keen to buy them from here.’
‘Nothing remarkable about that,’ snapped Oenomaus. His men took a step towards Spartacus and this time, he didn’t stop them.
‘They are all to fight in contests to the death.’ Again he had all of their attention. What Spartacus didn’t say — didn’t need to say — was that at least half of the men would be German.
‘You’re lying!’
Spartacus stared straight at Oenomaus. ‘I swear on the grave of my mother, and by Dionysus and the Great Rider, that I am not.’
Oenomaus frowned.
Spartacus threw up another prayer, asking the gods for their help.
‘Who would lead this enterprise?’
Another loaded question, thought Spartacus. Thank the Rider he’d come up with the answer beforehand. ‘No one man. Both of us will look after our own followers. The same will apply to Gavius and the Gauls’ leaders, if they want to be part of it.’
Oenomaus grunted. ‘Where would we go?’
‘I don’t know yet. But one of my men is the new auctoratus. He knows the area, and can give us some ideas.’ That’s it. I’ve done my best.
There was a long pause.
Then Oenomaus leered. His expression was all teeth, like a wolf’s. ‘Count us in.’ He winked at those around him, and like a pack who have spotted an easier prey to take down, they growled in agreement.
Spartacus’ heart leaped. He gave a tiny nod, as if he’d expected nothing else. ‘Good.’
‘Can you persuade the others to join too?’
He offered the German a confident smile. ‘Leave them to me.’
‘Keep me informed.’
‘I will. Not a word to anyone.’ Movement flickered at the edge of Spartacus’ vision. A quick look told him it was Phortis. Shit! He framed the Capuan’s name with his lips.
Oenomaus winked to show he’d understood.
Spartacus kicked the bearded German. ‘Tell this idiot to watch his step.’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ yelled Oenomaus.
Spartacus backed away slowly, as if wary of being attacked. The Germans showered him with insults as he went. When Spartacus looked again, Phortis was smirking at the apparent enmity between him and Oenomaus. He’s taken the bait. Good.
Encouraged by his early success, Spartacus spent the rest of the day approaching other leaders in the ludus. When Gavius, the stocky fighter who led more than forty Samnites, heard of Oenomaus’ involvement, he was quick to promise his support. So too were the majority of the Thracians. Spartacus had no such luck with Castus and Gannicus, who led two separate groups of Gauls. Neither seemed as if they’d inform on him, but the pair couldn’t put aside their suspicion of the other factions, let alone of each other. He made no effort to talk to the remaining fighters. They were made up of too many nationalities. Spartacus didn’t bother trying to win over Crixus either. The big man’s glare followed him around the yard and told him his likely response.