who had grabbed a cooking spit from the fire, like wolves cornering a deer. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Getas mumbled. ‘What do you want?’
Spartacus knew in the pit of his belly what this meant. Someone has betrayed us . One of the men smashed him across the head with his club. The stars that burst across his vision were accompanied by a tidal wave of agony. He dropped to the floor like a bag of rocks. As more blows rained down, he was dimly aware of Getas’ wife and children screaming in the background. Rage battered the edges of his consciousness, yet Spartacus could only curl into the foetal position in a vain attempt to escape more punishment.
‘Stop,’ shouted a voice at last. ‘You’ll kill him.’
Reluctantly, the warriors stood back.
It took every shred of Spartacus’ strength to move, but he managed to uncurl himself and look up. ‘Getas?’ he croaked.
‘I’m all right.’
He eyed the handsome warrior who looked to be in charge. ‘Motherless cur! You must be Polles.’
There was a mocking bow. ‘At your service.’
‘If you lay a hand on the woman or the babes, I’ll—’
‘Do what?’ interrupted Polles with a cruel laugh. His men smirked.
‘Cut your balls off and force you to eat them,’ growled Spartacus. ‘That’s before I kill you.’
‘I’d like to see you try.’ Polles stepped over and kicked Spartacus in the belly, causing him to retch uncontrollably. ‘Fortunately for you, the king doesn’t want them harmed. At least, not yet.’ He sniggered.
Spartacus reached out weakly, trying to grab Polles by the ankle, but the champion just moved beyond his reach. ‘Everyone thought you were dead.’
‘Clearly, I’m not.’
‘You will be soon. Plot to murder the king, would you?’
‘You’d know all about murdering,’ replied Spartacus. ‘You whoreson.’
Polles chuckled. ‘Heard about your father, then?’
Spartacus threw him a hate-filled glare by way of reply. ‘Who’s the rat? Who told you?’
Polles glanced at his men. ‘Shall I tell him, or let him stew in his juices for a while?’
‘Leave it until he sees who it is,’ suggested one warrior cruelly. ‘I’d like to see the expression on his face when he realises.’
‘Good idea,’ purred Polles.
‘Fuck you all,’ whispered Spartacus. Now he remembered the delay before Olynthus had replied to his question. Olynthus. He was the traitor for sure.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ asked Getas’ wife in a trembling voice.
‘What do you think?’ Polles sneered. ‘These two and the other prick who is responsible will be tied up in front of the whole tribe and tortured. When Kotys is happy that all the conspirators have been identified, he’ll have their throats cut. The remainder will simply be executed.’
Screaming with rage, she threw herself at Polles, but the warrior guarding her stuck out his foot. Getas’ wife tripped and went sprawling to the floor, coming to rest beside Spartacus. She did not try to get up, even when the children began to wail. Silent sobs racked her thin frame.
Impotent fury filled Spartacus. ‘Ariadne?’
‘So it was you who stood up for her by the gate. I thought it might have been,’ snarled Polles. ‘Once the day’s proceedings have finished, Kotys is throwing a celebratory feast. He’ll bed her after that. She’s to be his new wife.’
Spartacus’ face contorted with fury, and he tried to get up. A heavy blow from a club knocked him back to the floor. He was barely aware of being picked up and carried outside. Outside, a crowd had gathered. Their faces were unhappy, but none dared intervene. They’ll have attacked Seuthes and Medokos’ huts at the same time, thought Spartacus bitterly.
Then the blackness took him.
When Ariadne awoke, she looked straight at the spot where Spartacus had sat. Disappointment at his absence and guilt for feeling like that filled her. Sharp realisation sank home a moment later as she stared at the daylight
Spartacus knew in the pit of his belly what this meant. Someone has betrayed us . One of the men smashed him across the head with his club. The stars that burst across his vision were accompanied by a tidal wave of agony. He dropped to the floor like a bag of rocks. As more blows rained down, he was dimly aware of Getas’ wife and children screaming in the background. Rage battered the edges of his consciousness, yet Spartacus could only curl into the foetal position in a vain attempt to escape more punishment.
‘Stop,’ shouted a voice at last. ‘You’ll kill him.’
Reluctantly, the warriors stood back.
It took every shred of Spartacus’ strength to move, but he managed to uncurl himself and look up. ‘Getas?’ he croaked.
‘I’m all right.’
He eyed the handsome warrior who looked to be in charge. ‘Motherless cur! You must be Polles.’
There was a mocking bow. ‘At your service.’
‘If you lay a hand on the woman or the babes, I’ll—’
‘Do what?’ interrupted Polles with a cruel laugh. His men smirked.
‘Cut your balls off and force you to eat them,’ growled Spartacus. ‘That’s before I kill you.’
‘I’d like to see you try.’ Polles stepped over and kicked Spartacus in the belly, causing him to retch uncontrollably. ‘Fortunately for you, the king doesn’t want them harmed. At least, not yet.’ He sniggered.
Spartacus reached out weakly, trying to grab Polles by the ankle, but the champion just moved beyond his reach. ‘Everyone thought you were dead.’
‘Clearly, I’m not.’
‘You will be soon. Plot to murder the king, would you?’
‘You’d know all about murdering,’ replied Spartacus. ‘You whoreson.’
Polles chuckled. ‘Heard about your father, then?’
Spartacus threw him a hate-filled glare by way of reply. ‘Who’s the rat? Who told you?’
Polles glanced at his men. ‘Shall I tell him, or let him stew in his juices for a while?’
‘Leave it until he sees who it is,’ suggested one warrior cruelly. ‘I’d like to see the expression on his face when he realises.’
‘Good idea,’ purred Polles.
‘Fuck you all,’ whispered Spartacus. Now he remembered the delay before Olynthus had replied to his question. Olynthus. He was the traitor for sure.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ asked Getas’ wife in a trembling voice.
‘What do you think?’ Polles sneered. ‘These two and the other prick who is responsible will be tied up in front of the whole tribe and tortured. When Kotys is happy that all the conspirators have been identified, he’ll have their throats cut. The remainder will simply be executed.’
Screaming with rage, she threw herself at Polles, but the warrior guarding her stuck out his foot. Getas’ wife tripped and went sprawling to the floor, coming to rest beside Spartacus. She did not try to get up, even when the children began to wail. Silent sobs racked her thin frame.
Impotent fury filled Spartacus. ‘Ariadne?’
‘So it was you who stood up for her by the gate. I thought it might have been,’ snarled Polles. ‘Once the day’s proceedings have finished, Kotys is throwing a celebratory feast. He’ll bed her after that. She’s to be his new wife.’
Spartacus’ face contorted with fury, and he tried to get up. A heavy blow from a club knocked him back to the floor. He was barely aware of being picked up and carried outside. Outside, a crowd had gathered. Their faces were unhappy, but none dared intervene. They’ll have attacked Seuthes and Medokos’ huts at the same time, thought Spartacus bitterly.
Then the blackness took him.
When Ariadne awoke, she looked straight at the spot where Spartacus had sat. Disappointment at his absence and guilt for feeling like that filled her. Sharp realisation sank home a moment later as she stared at the daylight
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