Spartacus: The Gladiator by Ben Kane Page A

streaming in through the chinks in the roof. It was nearly full day. She had overslept. Cursing, she jumped up and padded to the door. Why had the fighting not woken her? She was a light sleeper at the best of times. Maybe there was no fighting. Could they have been betrayed? The thought made Ariadne feel sick to the pit of her stomach. Please, no .
    Throwing her cloak around her shoulders and picking up the basket that contained her snake, she unlocked the door and stepped outside. Unusually, the alleyway was deserted, but Ariadne could hear the swelling noise of a crowd from the central meeting area. Cold sweat ran down her back as she walked slowly towards the sound. Her feet felt as heavy as lead. Something had gone wrong. Spartacus had failed. She knew it in her bones.
    Rallying her courage, she emerged from the alley. Practically everyone in the settlement looked to be present. They weren’t happy either. The angry mutters rising from the onlookers made it clear that whatever was going on in the centre was unpopular. Ariadne’s dread grew as she heard Spartacus’ name being shouted periodically. Other names were also being cried out, although she didn’t catch them. Ariadne began pushing her way through the throng. People soon gave way when they saw who wanted to pass by, and it wasn’t long before she had reached the front of the crowd. Her knees nearly buckled at what she saw. The king’s entire force of bodyguards stood in a rough square around three wooden frames upon each of which a man had been tied, face down. Polles waited behind them, holding a whip. Kotys stood alongside him, a thin smile playing across his lips. To their rear, perhaps three score warriors were kneeling in the dirt, ropes tied around their necks. Their bloodied and battered appearance told its own story.
    ‘Who are they?’ Ariadne whispered to a woman beside her.
    ‘Spartacus, Sitalkes’ son. Getas and Seuthes, his friends, and the men who had sworn them loyalty.’
    Where are the rest? Ariadne wanted to scream. Where are Olynthus and Medokos? But she had no time to linger on the horror of that implication, that Spartacus had been betrayed by two of his so-called comrades, because Kotys stepped forward, smirking. ‘Priestess. You honour us with your presence. I’m glad that you will witness this.’
    Ariadne turned her face away in disgust. It was the only way she could resist. Dionysus, help us please, she begged silently. I’ll do anything. Anything.
    Kotys made a gesture at Polles.
    ‘Before you are three traitors who planned to depose the king. Know that one of their number is not here. He was killed when my men went to arrest him.’
    Spartacus had just come to. I honour your passing, Medokos, he thought. At least you died well.
    ‘Together these pieces of filth persuaded more than sixty warriors’ – Polles waved contemptuously at the tied-up figures to his rear – ‘to join their hopeless cause. Thank the Rider, Kotys was alerted to the danger. He owes his thanks to the loyalty of a warrior whom Spartacus, the fool, trusted implicitly.’
    The bodyguards roared with laughter.
    Balefully, Spartacus lifted his head from the frame. He caught Getas and Seuthes doing the same.
    ‘Step forward, Medokos,’ ordered Polles triumphantly.
    Utter disbelief filled Spartacus as Medokos emerged from the crowd to a chorus of jeers. So Olynthus is dead. Forgive me, brother, for misjudging you .
    ‘How could you?’ roared Getas. ‘You fucking shitbag!’
    ‘Curse you to hell!’ cried Seuthes.
    Spartacus stared at Medokos with utter hatred.
    His former friend flinched, but walked out to stand by Kotys, who patted him on the shoulder. ‘Your loyalty will not be forgotten.’
    Ariadne began calling down silent curses on Medokos’ head. May he go blind. May disease waste the flesh from his bones. May lightning strike him down, or a horse throw him to his death. She knew that if there was ever a time to flee, it was now, but she