‘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.
‘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.’