father out on the street. Have you no heart?’
Varus gave him an offended look. ‘It wasn’t as if he had no money for rent or food. At the time, he was working for a local merchant.’
‘And that made it acceptable, I suppose?’
‘How dare you take that tone with me, you impudent pup!’ snapped Varus. ‘Where were you when your family needed you? I was the one who took them in, who gave them a roof over their heads and put food in their bellies, who listened to their tragic tale over and over. I — not you.’
A wave of shame subsumed Carbo. ‘I was trying to earn the money to help with Father’s debts,’ he muttered. At least that’s how it started out. Once they had broken out of the ludus, there had been no opportunities — other than theft — to make any money, and Carbo wasn’t a thief. Spartacus had also banned the use of gold and silver in his army. The only metals of use, he said, were iron and bronze, for making weapons. I was going to do so much. Yet I have done none of it, and now my parents are dead. Tears pricked his eyes.
Varus was oblivious. ‘Clearly, you haven’t met with much success. Look at you, dressed like the poorest kind of pleb.’ His lip curled. ‘I wonder how you even managed to save the money to buy a slave.’
The sheer level of his uncle’s contempt helped Carbo to swallow his grief. He would deal with it later. What mattered right now was securing a safe place to hide until the next day. Where could be better than here? he thought with black amusement. ‘He’s not a slave.’
‘Eh?’ Varus’ pudgy forehead creased into a frown. ‘Who is he, then?’
‘He’s a friend.’ Carbo took the few steps that separated him from his uncle at speed. Picking up the glass by its stem, he smashed it off the edge of the table. As Varus gaped, he swept around to the rear of his chair. A great shove sent the slave with the palm leaf stumbling backwards. Carbo threw his left arm around Varus’ neck in a choke hold. Gripping the jagged stump of the glass like a knife, he touched it to his uncle’s throat. ‘Up.’
‘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
