‘Die now Roman,’ Spartacus muttered, ‘and let your evil pollute this earth no more. Here is the clean, quick death that you do not deserve, but which is given freely by me, who you so grievously wronged.’
He then looked up at his fellow gladiators, his eyes ablaze with the dazzling fire of righteousness.
‘We are not like them!’ he shouted, pointing his sword at the dying Titus. ‘We will not torture, we will not maim for the sake of vengeance or amusement, and we will not enslave anyone! Do you hear me, brothers?! We will take our freedom, we will fight against the tyranny of Rome and her rich masters, and we will enact justice where it has previously been denied – but we will never, ever become like them! We are free men – almost, my friends, almost – but when we win the next battle, when we break out of this ludus, we will be, above all, free men of honour! Free men who fight for all that is good in this world! We will free all slaves! We will end the tyranny of power, and we will fight for the oppressed against the might of those who would crush them beneath their golden heels! We will be champions of the poor, of the downtrodden, of the slaves, of anyone who has been beaten down, broken and crushed by the black might of this evil empire! Together, we will stand up against their cruelty and greed, we will defy them, and what is more, WE WILL TRIUMPH!’
A mighty cheer erupted from the gladiators, and all of them raised their weapons to salute Spartacus.
‘To Spartacus!’ they roared. ‘Spartacus, the Liberator!’
‘My friends, my brothers, my comrades!’ N’Jalabenadou interrupted with a booming bellow. ‘Today’s battle is not yet won! These are only ten of the forty or so guards in this ludus. We took these ones unawares, and the battle was easily won … but we cannot become overconfident from this one small victory. When we leave this hall we will face a much tougher battle, and some of us will certainly die. Out there, out there in this labyrinth that is Batiatus’s ludus, there are far more guards, as well as archers with bows hiding in the dark, who can pick us off from a distance. And let us not forget the former gladiators, like Maharbaal and perhaps Lucius Sertorius, if he is here, who are formidable opponents, who may likely fight to the death to defend their employer. We must strike quickly, and we must be thorough and efficient. None must leave this ludus alive. If word gets out, they will send an army against us – an army we cannot defeat – and they will crucify every last one of us.’
‘The General is right,’ Spartacus said. ‘Like Viridovix said earlier, Rome hates nothing with more vehemence than a slave revolt. They will send an army, and they will make sure we are punished most severely for this. Thus, as brutal as it is, we must strike hard and fast first. Nobody must escape tonight but us and the slaves we liberate.’
‘What about the servants?’ Oenomaus asked. ‘They ain’t never done us no wrong.’
‘He is right,’ the General said. ‘The servants are innocent of any crime. We cannot simply butcher them.’
Spartacus nodded and considered this for a few moments.
‘Yes, this is true. Like I said, we are not like the masters, and nor will we ever become like them. So, I suppose we will have to capture the servants and imprison them in our cells. We can give them all the available food and water from the kitchens. Someone will stop by this ludus within a few days, probably within a week at the most; Batiatus has plenty of friends and traders stopping by all the time. The servants will be discovered and set free before any of them are in danger of starving to death, and we will be long gone by that time, on our way to distant lands, where the Roman Legions will never find us.’
‘And the masters?’ Oenomaus asked.
Spartacus’s eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth.
‘We kill them. We kill them all.’
Crixus now walked up to the three leaders of the rebellion, armed with a spear he had taken from a fallen guard.
‘Crixus,’ the General said to the towering Carthaginian. ‘Are you with us?’
Crixus grinned abruptly, and a murmur of surprise rippled through the gathered gladiators; it was the first time any of them had ever seen any form of expression on the heavily scarred warrior’s face.
‘Damn right I’m with you,’ he gnarled, still smiling. It was also the first time any of them had ever heard his voice. ‘My whole cursed life has been leading up to this moment! Let’s tear the masters’ lungs out and stick their fucking heads on spikes!’
The gladiators all cheered, and the General grinned savagely and gave Crixus a short, tight hug.
‘It is good to have such a powerful warrior on our side, Crixus. We are grateful for your presence and loyalty.’ He turned to the door and rapped on it with the pommel of his gladius. ‘Arishat! Arishat, are you there?’ he shouted.
‘I am here,’ she whispered through the slim gap between the doors.
‘It is done. We are victorious.’
The gladiators heard the heavy beam being removed from the lock outside, and the doors creaked open. Arishat came in and gasped with shock when she saw the extent of the gore and carnage before her.
‘I am sorry that you have to look upon such a sight,’ Spartacus said softly. ‘But such is the price we must pay for freedom.’
Arishat rushed over to him and embraced him tightly.
‘Is it over?’ she gasped between sobs. ‘Is it really over?’
‘No, my dear, it is not. It has only just begun,’ the General murmured darkly. ‘The gutters of this ludus will run red with blood before
