Spartacus spat with virulent defiance at Viridovix’s feet. The General, who was reclining on a stone bench in the corner of the cell, merely chuckled and shook his head as he observed the argument unfolding. Crixus, who also happened to be in the room, sitting on the floor on his own in a corner, watched the ongoing confrontation with his usual reticent disinterest.
‘What the fuck did you just say to me?!’ Viridovix roared, his eyes ablaze, flecks of spittle flying from his lips. ‘What the fuck did you call me?! Do you know who I am?!’
Spartacus seemed both unimpressed and completely unintimidated at this primal display of aggression.
‘It doesn’t matter who you are,’ he sneered, ‘because really, you are a pathetic slave; a loyal dog and nothing more. A vicious one, I’ll give you that, but truly, a common cur.’
Viridovix sprang over the crude wooden table that stood between himself and Spartacus and grabbed the smaller man by the lapel of his rough-spun tunic, his eyes bulging with fury and bubbly saliva foaming at the edges of his mouth.
‘I am a fucking god!’ he growled. ‘I’ll tear your worthless heart out with my bare hands and eat it—’
Strong hands gripped Viridovix’s arms from behind, and they levered his hands off of Spartacus’s tunic.
‘Leave him be, brother. Remember, you were once like him.’
‘Me!?’ Viridovix yelled angrily as he yanked his arms free from N’Jalabenadou’s arm-lock. ‘I was never like this spineless rat! Never!’ He turned back to glare with raw contempt at Spartacus, his hackles raised as he bristled with naked aggression and sizzling-hot wrath. ‘Don’t want to be a gladiator eh? Well fuck you then, you dirty little coward! Go out onto the training ground tomorrow with a blade in your hand and I’ll make sure you don’t have the chance to ever even learn to be one! I’ll end your pathetic life so fucking quickly—’
‘Calm down Viridovix,’ the General said in a soothing and even tone. ‘He is a new brother. He has yet to learn—’
‘I’m not oneof your fucking brothers,’ Spartacus spat with acidic vehemence. ‘You’re all dogs. You, you and that, that mute imbecile sitting in the corner!’
Crixus’s face remained as blank as ever; he did not react at all to the insult flung so casually his way.
‘I’m a free man!’ Spartacus continued. ‘They will not break me, they will not. They tried, they tried with that dungeon of darkness, but that only strengthened my resolve. I tell you this, I will not become like you three lickspittles. Never.’
‘Call me a dog, call me a dog again, you fucking—’ Viridovix snarled, trying to lunge for Spartacus again, but once more the General held him back. Crixus continued to quietly observe the whole thing with no expression on his face whatsoever. N’Jalabenadou, still holding Viridovix in a lock, turned to Spartacus and transfixed him with an intense stare, but there was neither malice nor injury in his gaze. He nodded after a while, almost imperceptibly, and smiled at the newcomer.
‘I like your attitude, Spartacus,’ he remarked amicably, ignoring the Thracian’s simmering hostility. ‘You know, both this barbarian and myself were once like you. I’m not sure about our silent friend in the corner there, but I suspect that even he too was once full of life and energy and passion. But somewhere along the line that fire, which burns now so intensely in your veins … was extinguished in ours. I’ve been fighting to keep the spark aglow within myself, but our master is ruthless in such matters. He does not tolerate any hint of rebelliousness; no, none at all. I must warn you that the days you just spent in that subterranean prison will become weeks or even months down in that black pit of hell should you defy him.’
Spartacus, cooling off somewhat now, folded his arms across his chest and shook his head defiantly.
‘He will not break me,’ he muttered. ‘He will not, no matter what he tries. He will not break me.’
‘This one here,’ N’Jalabenadou countered, jerking his head in Viridovix’s direction, ‘he once said the same thing. And yet now he relishes in the blood he sheds for the entertainment of the plebs. As for Crixus over there in the corner … well, just look at him. His heart beats, his lungs breathe, but is he truly alive?’
‘It’s not for entertaining the fucking plebs!’ Viridovix snapped angrily. ‘You’re making it sound like we’re a bunch of fucking dancing bears!’
The General turned and raised a sceptical eyebrow at Viridovix.
‘You think we’re not dancing bears? Pray tell, what are we then?’
‘We are the most elite warriors in all the known world! We are carrying on a time-honoured and ancient tradition, one that embodies the nobility and glory of single combat, of the utter mastery of sword and spear, of—’
‘We’re dancing bears,’ the General interjected flatly. ‘Nothing more.’
‘You might be,’ Viridovix scoffed, his fists clenched tight with wrath. ‘But I am not. I am—’
‘A slave,’ Spartacus mocked. ‘A whimpering dog who crawls and quivers with shameful loyalty beneath the whip of his master. That’s what you are. And there is no slave more pathetic than the one who grows to love the hand that crushes him.’
‘Why you—’ Viridovix snarled, stepping aggressively towards Spartacus. The General, however, grabbed him once more and restrained him.
‘Easy brother, easy,’ he said in a soothing tone, while holding Viridovix tightly in a lock. ‘We are supposed to be showing the new recruit the ropes.’
‘Aye, and instilling some discipline and respect in him, which he clearly lacks in bucketloads!’ Viridovix spat, struggling against the General’s lock, but transfixing Spartacus all the while with a ferocious glare, his jaw clenched and his muscles taut.
‘There will be plenty of that coming from the guards, the doctore, and Batiatus himself. We do not need to add to
