Rider, for bringing Spartacus home in one piece.’
‘To the Rider!’ They all drank deeply.
‘To the end of Kotys’ tyranny,’ said Seuthes. ‘May he be rotting in hell very soon.’
‘Polles too,’ added Getas.
‘And plenty of the other scumbags who follow at their heels,’ snarled Medokos.
They threw back the wine. Getas poured everyone refills.
‘Let’s be clear,’ warned Spartacus. ‘What we’re talking about places all of our lives in great danger.’ His eyes flashed to the woman and the children. ‘You understand me?’
‘We know the dangers, Spartacus,’ said Getas fiercely. ‘And we still want to be part of it.’
‘Good. I need to talk to every warrior that you three regard as trustworthy. How many do you think that is?’ He scanned their faces intently. Everything hinged on the rough poll he’d asked them to conduct earlier. Let there be enough, Great Rider, or we’re all dead men.
‘I had nineteen men say “Yes”,’ said Getas.
‘Sixteen,’ added Seuthes.
‘Twelve.’ Medokos looked annoyed. ‘One of them delayed me for at least an hour. He insisted on drinking in your honour.’
Spartacus smiled. ‘You did well.’ He glanced at Olynthus, who had always been slightly aloof. It was probably because of the hunting injury that had left him with a permanent limp in his right leg. Aware that Olynthus’ peer group often poked fun at him, Spartacus had always made him welcome, including him in all their boyhood exploits. Nonetheless, he knew Olynthus less well than the others.
‘Twenty.’
Delighted, Spartacus punched him lightly on the arm. ‘Sixty-seven warriors. Including us, I make it seventy- two. That’s good enough odds for me.’ He clenched his fists, which were hidden in his lap. ‘How about the rest of you?’
‘When do you think we should do it?’ asked Getas by way of answer.
Spartacus grinned. ‘Always the hasty one, Getas!’ He eyed the others.
‘I’m with you,’ said Seuthes.
‘Me too,’ muttered Medokos.
‘Aye.’ Olynthus’ answer was a heartbeat slower than that of the others, but the adrenalin was pumping so hard through Spartacus’ veins that he barely noticed.
‘Excellent. Have you told the men to gather so that I can talk to them?’
‘Yes, in three houses,’ replied Seuthes. ‘We’ll take you to them, one by one.’
Getas was like a dog with a bone. ‘How soon do we attack the king?’
‘We need to do it tomorrow.’
Medokos’ eyebrows rose. ‘So soon?’
‘Yes. You know what people are like with idle gossip, let alone something like this. Best strike while the iron is hot.’ He ignored the awe in their eyes. ‘We can do it!’
‘Gods, but it’s good to have you back. Sitalkes would be proud,’ said Getas, beaming from ear to ear. ‘Let dawn arrive soon!’
The tension eased as they all chuckled at his enthusiasm.
Spartacus let them enjoy the feeling for a moment. Then, ‘We’d better get a move on. There are a lot of men who need to hear what I’ve got to say.’
‘True enough,’ said Getas. ‘May the Rider watch over us.’
During the course of the next few hours, Spartacus moved tirelessly through the village with his four friends. He was greatly heartened by the warm reception he received everywhere. The level of discontent with Kotys’ rule proved to be huge, and his words fell on fertile ground. Men fondly remembered his father and brother, and lamented both their deaths, especially that of Sitalkes, who had been poisoned at a feast held by Kotys. They apologised for not avenging Sitalkes’ death, and were happy to swear undying loyalty to Spartacus. Every single one promised to send the king, Polles and the rest of his followers to oblivion in a variety of unpleasant ways. To a man, the warriors seemed to love Spartacus’ plan of storming the royal compound at dawn, when most of the bodyguards would be asleep. ‘The simple plans are the best,’ he promised them all. ‘There’s nothing that can go wrong.’
When he was done, Spartacus considered returning to Ariadne’s house to sleep. The idea appealed, but he put it aside. There was no point endangering her even more than he done already. By telling so many warriors of his plan, he had opened himself up to betrayal. Yet there was no other way of doing it. If he did nothing, Kotys would hear of his presence in the village by the next day. There was no way that the king would not act. Spartacus steeled his resolve. All will go well. It has to. By sunset tomorrow, I will be the new ruler of the Maedi. It scarcely seemed possible. Although the idea had crossed his mind during his time away, it hadn’t ever been something that he had thought would come to pass. Rhesus, the previous king, and Andriscus, his son, had been popular and courageous men. He scowled. They’re gone now, like Father. Kotys must pay for that with his life. If achieving that end brings me the kingship, so be it. I’ll make a better leader than the dog who currently sits on the throne. I will be able to lead the tribe against Rome all the sooner. Another pleasing thought crossed his mind. What of Ariadne? A smile spread across his face. We shall see.
He walked quietly back to Getas’ house, bidding farewell to the others one by one. Safely indoors, his friend handed him a spare blanket. Spartacus nodded his thanks. He lay down without undressing, making sure that his sword was to hand.
Getas crept under the covers with his wife, who was now mercifully asleep.
Spartacus closed his eyes. So much had happened that day that he expected to lie awake until the appointed hour, which was when Getas’ cockerel started to crow. Apparently, it was annoyingly reliable, beginning its morning chorus an hour before sunrise each day. Spartacus was more weary than he’d realised, however. Lying back, he sank into a dreamless slumber.
He woke to the sound of splintering wood. Long years of combat experience sent him leaping up, tugging at his sword. Too little sleep, and the fact that he stumbled as he rose, meant that Spartacus had no time to draw his blade successfully. Half a dozen men came charging through the remains of the door, clubs in hand. They closed in on him and Getas, who had grabbed a cooking spit from the fire, like wolves cornering a deer. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Getas mumbled. ‘What do you want?’
Spartacus knew in the pit of his belly what this meant. Someone has betrayed us. One of the men smashed him across the head with his club. The stars that burst across his vision were accompanied by a tidal wave of agony. He dropped to the floor like a bag of rocks. As more blows rained down, he was dimly aware of Getas’ wife and children screaming in the background. Rage battered the edges of his consciousness, yet Spartacus could only curl into the foetal position in a vain attempt to escape more punishment.
‘Stop,’ shouted a voice at last. ‘You’ll kill him.’
Reluctantly, the warriors stood back.
It took every shred of Spartacus’ strength to move, but he managed to uncurl himself and look up. ‘Getas?’ he croaked.
‘I’m all right.’
He eyed the handsome warrior who looked to be in charge. ‘Motherless cur! You must be Polles.’
There was a mocking bow. ‘At your service.’
‘If you lay a hand on the woman or the babes, I’ll-’
‘Do what?’ interrupted Polles with a cruel laugh. His men smirked.
‘Cut your balls off and force you to eat them,’ growled Spartacus. ‘That’s before I kill you.’
‘I’d like to see you try.’ Polles stepped over and kicked Spartacus in the belly, causing him to retch uncontrollably. ‘Fortunately for you, the king doesn’t want them harmed. At least, not yet.’ He sniggered.
Spartacus reached out weakly, trying to grab Polles by the ankle, but the champion just moved beyond his reach. ‘Everyone thought you were dead.’
‘Clearly, I’m not.’
‘You will be soon. Plot to murder the king, would you?’
‘You’d know all about murdering,’ replied Spartacus. ‘You whoreson.’
Polles chuckled. ‘Heard about your father, then?’
Spartacus threw him a hate-filled glare by way of reply. ‘Who’s the rat? Who told you?’
