‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ He was surprised that she’d noticed.
Liar. ‘Who will you ask first?’
‘Oenomaus,’ replied Spartacus instantly. ‘He has the most followers.’
‘If he throws in his lot with you, others will follow,’ she said, probing.
‘That’s my hope, yes.’
‘How will you persuade him?’
‘I’ll find a way.’
Ariadne honed in on the slight uncertainty in his voice. She stared into his eyes long and hard. ‘Did you dream of the snake again?’
He nodded unwillingly. She sees much.
For the briefest instant, Ariadne considered lying, telling him that Dionysus had shown her an explanation for his vision. No, she decided. That might anger the god. Might make things worse than they already were. ‘And you think that this could mean your death?’
‘Our deaths,’ he answered quietly.
Ariadne looked at him. The loud sounds of activity in the yard died away as the world closed in around them. Even Getas and Seuthes, who were only a few steps away, seemed less real.
‘If things go wrong, I can’t leave you behind for that fucking jackal. I, or one of us, will end it for you first.’
She gripped his hand. ‘I wouldn’t want it any other way. We will stay together — in life or death.’
He smiled grimly. ‘So be it.’
Ariadne watched as Spartacus walked off alone. She nodded a welcome as Getas, Seuthes and Carbo resumed their positions, but inside, doubts plagued her. After what had happened the previous day, it was all too easy to presume the worst possible outcome from his dream. Dionysus, help him, she prayed. I have ever been your faithful servant. Do not forsake me or my husband now.
Spartacus headed straight for Oenomaus, who was sitting at a table, eating with his men. The certainty he’d felt the night before was still there, but he had no idea if the German — or anyone else for that matter — would agree with him. He’d never spoken to Oenomaus, and his plan did border on the lunatic. Great Rider, stay by my side. I ask you to guide my path. Spartacus was a dozen steps from Oenomaus when a barrel-chested man with long hair and a bushy beard stood up and blocked his way. Several others moved to join him, their hands reaching into their tunics for hidden weapons. ‘Stop right there,’ growled the first man in poor Latin. ‘What do you want?’
Spartacus raised his hands in peaceful greeting. ‘Nothing much. Just a word with Oenomaus.’
‘Fuck off. He doesn’t want to speak to you.’
Spartacus peered around the other’s bulk. ‘Oenomaus!’
The German turned his head. ‘Who called my name?’
‘I did,’ answered Spartacus. He glanced at the bearded man blocking his way. ‘Your polite friend here says that you wouldn’t want to talk to me.’
‘Polite? Him?’ The corners of Oenomaus’ lips lifted a fraction. ‘He’s right, though. Why would I bother with the likes of you?’
‘What I’ve got to say might interest you.’
‘You’re the one who fought before Crassus?’
‘Yes.’
‘Most men would have succumbed to the wound you took. You did well to win.’
‘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.’
