‘Viridovix!’ he shouted. ‘Come with me, we’re going to get you armoured up.’
Viridovix looked up, surprised.
‘Armoured up, master? Why?’
‘For fighting, you half-wit! Why else?!’
‘Fighting now? At night?’
The guard rolled his eyes.
‘Yes! Jupiter’s cock, you’re like a toddler with all these blasted questions! Shut up, get on your feet and come with me! And Batiatus has something he wants to tell you, something very important, he says. Something that’s just between you and him. Big, big news for you, I’ll wager. So come on, on your feet, now!’
Viridovix got up and strode out of the dining hall after the guard without bothering to take another look at or say anything else to the others. The General, Spartacus and Oenomaus watched him go, all three of them brooding on his words in terse silence. Crixus, sitting apart from them, simply resumed staring at the wall.
‘Do we gots any hope of winnin’ without him on our side?’ Oenomaus asked with a look of worry clouding his huge face.
‘Yes, we do,’ Spartacus answered, his voice steeled with an unshakeable resolution. ‘He is an immensely skilled fighter, no doubt, but so are all of us. One fewer on our side will not be the key to winning or losing the battle, and we cannot allow his pessimism and negativity to diminish our determination. We have been trying for weeks to get him on our side, but he will not budge. So be it; we only have one shot at this, so we’ll have to proceed without him. His obstinacy cannot stop us.’
‘Spartacus is right,’ the General said, slamming a determined right fist into his open left palm. ‘If Viridovix cannot be convinced, we must simply accept this fact and go ahead with the plan anyway. We must strike while the iron is hot … and it feels as if it is glowing white with heat now. This is our one chance for freedom, and we cannot afford to let it slip by. There are thirteen of us pledged to attack when the time is right, and I have a feeling that those who initially refused to participate will change their minds when this thing begins.’
They got back to eating their gruel, each man lost in a tumult of thoughts and questions careening about the corridors of his mind – and it was then that the fateful sound of nine loud and distinctly pronounced coughs, clearly grouped in threes, echoed through the dining hall. All three gladiators looked up in unison, their hearts suddenly thundering in their chests when they saw Arishat walking in through the doors, carrying an amphora of water.
As she made a beeline from them, Spartacus took the initiative and sprang to his feet. He walked straight over to the girl, immediately noticing the unmistakable fear and worry displayed plainly upon her visage. He glanced across at the guards as he walked, and saw that they were, as usual, engaged in idle conversation, and were not paying much attention to what was going on in the dining hall. Seeing that the time was ripe to make a move, he quickly shoulder-barged Arishat, sending both her and the amphora flying. She landed in a heap on the floor, and the clay amphora shattered with a loud crash in a shower of spraying water and broken shards clattering on the stone floor. Both of the guards at the door looked up at once.
‘You stupid bitch!’ Spartacus shouted before the guards could say anything, wearing a mask of mock rage. ‘Why don’t you look where you’re going!’
‘It was your fault, you brute!’ Arishat retorted, also putting on an act of anger. ‘You walked into me because you were talking to your stupid friends and not paying attention!’
‘Both of you, shut the fuck up!’ one of the door guards growled. ‘I don’t give a shit whose fault it was, get that fucking mess cleaned up! Now!’
‘What about our water, master?!’ Spartacus cried, placing a strong emphasis on the word ‘master’. ‘We haven’t had any to drink for hours, master!’
‘Fuck your water,’ the guard spat. ‘Lap it up off the floor like the curs you are.’
‘We can’t do that, master!’ Oenomaus protested, standing up and folding his massive arms over his chest. ‘Look, there’s not enough for us, it’s all soaked between the cracks in the stones already, see?’
The guard shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath.
‘We have to have water, master,’ the General said in as demure a tone as he could fake. ‘We’ve had a heavy day of training today, and you saw how hot it was this afternoon in the summer sun. Please master, have some pity on us and allow this foolish girl to go and get us another pitcher of water. Please master, I’m begging you…’
The guard smiled evilly, discerning an opportunity for some malicious mischief.
‘Oh you’re begging now, are you, mighty champion of the arena?’
The General clasped his hands together and nodded, pleading with his eyes as well as the words he was uttering.
‘I’m begging you, master.’
‘I’m not convinced,’ the guard grunted icily. ‘All of you three, you want water? You fucking beg properly for it. Do it. Convince me.’
The General sank to his knees immediately.
‘Please master … I’m so thirsty, I’m so, so, thirsty…’
‘You too Thracian!’ the guard shouted, pointing at Spartacus. ‘And you, you big thick ox!’
Oenomaus knelt before the guard as well, as did Spartacus.
‘Please master, please, we’re desperately thirsty. Please allow us just one amphora of water,’ Spartacus pleaded. ‘We’re begging you, absolutely begging you.’
‘Titus! Titus, are you watching this?’ the guard laughed, nudging his colleague in the ribs with the butt of his spear. ‘By Jupiter, I can’t wait to tell the boys at the Dog and Pig tavern about this! Hahaha, three of the arena’s mightiest fighters kneeling down before me, begging like fucking street wretches!’
‘They’ll never believe you,’ Titus scoffed.
‘You’ll fucking tell them it’s true, you’re watching this
