Batiatus’s voice crashed through his trance of anxiety, jolting him back to the feverish present.
‘And now, honoured guests, may I present to you the first dish of the evening! Indulge your palates in an orgy of flavours as you sample fares from this pantheon of exotic dishes prepared by my grandmaster of the culinary arts! I invite you to gorge yourselves upon the flesh of creatures great and small from the farthest expanses of our empire! And we are not only rich in meat, but in fruit too! Taste the exquisite sweetness of dates from Judea, cherries from Pontus, peaches from Persia, and pomegranates from the province of Africa! And of course, as many of you know, one of my hobbies is growing my own spinach, lettuce and other leafy green vegetables, so unfortunately for you lot, the salad comes from no further away than where your horses are stabled!’ At this a jovial bout of laughter resounded through the room, and Batiatus chuckled proudly at his own joke. ‘I can assure you, however, that the olive oil and vinegar garnishing my home-grown salads come all the way from the very finest growers south of the Alps!’ Everyone laughed again and applauded Batiatus. ‘Now for the first round of dishes: some of my spectacular salad, dormice stuffed with pork and all manner of aromatic herbs, roasted ostrich meat with a honey sauce, and fallow deer with onions, and finally dates and a garlic sauce, served with berries harvested from the forests of Gaul. Partake most greedily of these delicacies, my friends! Devour them with relish! Celebrate in the power and might of this glorious Empire, that through its vast expanse and influence has brought such strange and wonderful dishes to your tables!’
Octavian stood up and raised his goblet.
‘All hail Batiatus! I say, ladies, noblemen, senators and free Romans, raise your goblets to the great god Mars Invictus, but also to this man who the gods have so greatly favoured, Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Batiatus! With that, let this night of revelry commence!’
Everyone stood up from their tables and raised their goblets, cheering in unison as Batiatus beamed out a broad, proud grin at them. He took a bow, sat down and then quaffed heavily on his wine as the slaves began to bring in heavily laden platters of steaming food, freshly prepared from the kitchens. A band of musicians entered the hall and took up their instruments in a corner, playing upbeat and festive songs as a joyous accompaniment to the festivities.
Sweating copiously inside his armour, Lucius started to seriously consider the notion of slipping out and quietly fleeing. Amidst all the hubbub of slaves and servants coming and going, it would surely be easy enough to sneak by unnoticed … or would it? After all, the servants and slaves were dressed only in loincloths, whereas he was attired head-to-toe in steel armour. The armour clinked and groaned with every movement he made; he could not walk out of here without making a fair racket, which would surely be noticed by someone at one of the nearby tables, despite the raucous noise of the banquet. However, his desire to escape was escalating to a feverish intensity.
Curses! I need out! I must get away from here!
What could be done, though? He could not approach Batiatus and request permission to leave, for that would surely give away the secret of his identity. He could not simply walk away either – he would be stopped by the other guards and made to return to his post. Surely though, if he could somehow just let Batiatus know how he felt, he would be able to leave. There had to be some way of getting a message through to his friend without drawing unwanted attention to himself. He bit his lower lip as he racked his brain in search of a solution, staring all the while at Batiatus’s table and watching as the guests stuffed food into their mouths with a seemingly insatiable appetite. Fingers and hands were slick in the firelight, gleaming with grease and fat, while sauces and oil ran down chubby chins and dripped onto extravagant tunics and robes, garments that were each worth a lifetime’s sum of wages of a common labourer, and that had been worn once or twice before, or perhaps maybe never, and would most likely be discarded after the evening’s revelry.
Anxiety now began to turn to envy; Lucius could not help but stare in lustful awe at the feast laid out before him.
I should be there! Me, Lucius Sertorius! I made this ludus what it is! Without the gladiators I chose for Batiatus, this place would still be a second rate ludus, producing fighters who were no more than mere cattle to be slaughtered in group battles in the provincial arenas.Batiatus would never, ever have had a champion of the Colosseum in Rome had it not been for the men I supplied him with! And yet here I am, watching as he and these bastard Huntsmen stuff themselves and fill their bellies with the finest meats, fruits and wines of the Empire, while I have to sit and swelter inside this suit of armour, pretending to be a lowly guard! Bah!
The more food that was brought out, the more Lucius’s anxiety started to turn instead to jealousy and ire. And there, right there in front of him, sat the orchestrators of all of his misery, the men whose purpose in life, it seemed, was to end his life, and the lives of other beings like himself. To what end, he still had no idea, but their hatred of him and his kind filled him with a murderous disgust that seethed inside him with the corrosive heat of sulphuric acid.
His fingers tightened around the haft of his spear as he watched Octavian talking in
