N’Jalabenadou and Viridovix turned their attention away from Crixus, and back to each other.
‘Oh, “by Jupiter” you say?’ the General mocked. ‘So now you take as your oath the names of those Roman gods you once so despised? You know Viridovix, I look upon you and see but a shadow of the man who the guards dragged in five years ago, fighting and cursing in your Gallic tongue.’
Hot anger flared up in Viridovix’s eyes.
‘A shadow?! Are you mad, General? I’m the greatest gladiator in this fucking ludus! They worship my name in every arena across the Republic!’
The General remained unconvinced.
‘Gladiator … slave … there is no difference. Yes, you are still a slave, no matter what else they call you. What happened to those oaths of vengeance and freedom you swore when they first brought you here?’
Viridovix looked away, unable now to meet the General’s probing gaze.
‘I … I will have my freedom one day,’ he muttered.
N’Jalabenadou laughed dryly and humourlessly.
‘I no longer see the man I once called friend and brother. Instead I see a slave, drunk on his master’s rewards, his senses dulled by too much wine and too many women.’
‘Well what would you have me do?’ Viridovix snapped. ‘You’ve been here longer than I, and you’re still a damn slave yourself! You accuse me of all of these things, yet you too are confined to these cells with not a hope in Hades of liberty!’ Viridovix paused for a moment, and the anger drawn tightly across his face softened to a more sympathetic look. ‘Listen General, if we survive another five years in the arena, I’m sure Batiatus will grant us our freedom. You and I, we’re in good shape, but we’re not getting any younger. The crowds are fickle; they love us now, but you know how they are; they won’t care anymore in a few years. We’ve seen it happen with every hero of the arena. The masses get bored quickly; they need new heroes, new warrior gods to worship. When that happens, Batiatus will give us our wooden swords. We will have brought him more than enough coin by then. And then when we’ve been granted our freedom, why, we could become doctores ourselves! We could train gladiators and make piles and piles of gold from them in the arena, as Batiatus does. You and I are the best of the best, General, and we can use that to our advantage in the future.’
The General shook his head and stared coolly into Viridovix’s eyes.
‘Again I say, you are not the Viridovix I once knew,’ he said with a sad sigh. ‘I have no desire for gold, friend. We talked so much in those early days of leaving this accursed place, of escaping from all this vile excess! You and I, Viridovix, we spoke long into those lonely nights in our adjacent cells. Don’t you remember? We talked of the small plots of land we’d have, out in the countryside, free from the long and evil fingers of Rome. We imagined the crops we’d raise, the wives we would have and the children we would sire who would keep our names alive after we passed from this realm. I still follow that dream; a simple dream of a simple life.’
Viridovix glared haughtily at the General, his lips curling into a sneer of contempt.
‘The roar of the crowd does nothing for you?’ he spat. ‘Fifty thousand plebeians, all screaming your name? You feel nothing at all?’
The General was firm and resolute in his answer.
‘No. I feel nothing but contempt for them. I do not want their insincere praise, and I do not want their hollow adulation. I just want them to forget me, to leave me be. I want nothing of these dreams of empty excess. My feelings on this matter are as strong now as they were five years ago … unlike yours.’
‘Well I say that—’
‘Gladiators, your master approaches!’ a guard barked, interrupting their conversation. ‘On your feet, boys!’
The General, Crixus and Viridovix rose up from their massage slabs and stood at attention as Batiatus limped into the room on his crippled leg. He beamed a warm smile at the three gladiators before he spoke.
‘My warriors, my golden heroes of the arena! The crowds sang your praises today like never before! As promised, I will reward you sweetly this evening. Viridovix, you will be taken to Domitia’s House of Pleasures later, where, as discussed, you may have your pick of any five women, and as much wine as you care for. Spare no expense, my warrior! You made me more coin than you could imagine this afternoon, so you are free to spend as much of that coin as you so wish.’
Batiatus then turned to Crixus.
‘And you? I suppose it’ll be the same thing for you as ever, eh? Three big jugs of wine, alone in your cell?’
Crixus nodded, the unmoving expression on his face as deadpan as ever.
Batiatus then turned his attention to N’Jalabenadou, the General, with a strange look of consternation etched onto his visage; it was almost a plea, but with the force of authority backing it.
‘General, will you not for once partake of the fruits I offer? Surely you must long for the company of women and the sweetness of wine?’
The General stared at the floor and shook his head.
‘I must refuse, Master. My request remains the same:
