Gladiator: Son of Spartacus Read Free Page A

fields. Only a handful - children and older men and women - had their irons removed. They wore little more than rags, soiled and torn, and their filthy skin was covered in bruises and scars from the beatings of their overseers.
    ‘I am Brixus,’ he announced. ‘A lieutenant of Spartacus. I have come to set you free.’
    He turned to his followers. ‘Get the chains off them and lead them out of here. Keep ’em together so I can speak to them when they’re ready.’
    Now the slaves stood before him, anxious to learn what would become of them.
    Brixus drew a deep breath and spoke loudly to be heard over the distant crackle of the flames still consuming what was left of the barracks.
    ‘Your lives of back-breaking toil are over, my friends. There will be no more whips. No more chains. No more slowly starving on the thin gruel provided by your masters. See how well they lived while you endured so much suffering, exhaustion and hunger?’ He thrust his arm towards the steward and his family.
    The slaves glanced towards the man who had controlled every aspect of their lives and there was silence before a voice muttered angrily. Others joined in, waving their fists.
    Brixus raised his hands and called out to them. ‘Enough! Enough! You will have your revenge shortly. For now, listen to me.’
    When they had fallen silent, he continued. ‘As I said. You are no longer slaves, but free. Now you may choose what to do with your lives. You are masters of your fate.'
    ‘What happens when news of this attack gets out?’ a voice asked. ‘They will come here and punish any slave they find.’
    ‘Then come with us,’ Brixus replied.
    ‘And go where? The Romans will hunt us down like dogs.’
    ‘No, they won’t. I told you my name. I am Brixus, loyal to what Spartacus died for. When the rebellion ended I survived, along with many others. When I escaped again I made for the hills and mountains of the Apennines and joined those of the slave army who still remained in hiding. Since then we have been adding to our number by raiding the estates of those who call themselves our masters, and setting their slaves free. I lead but one of the bands of rebels who hide in the mountains. The Romans have tried to hunt us down, but we have eluded them. Now we are fighting back, hunting them down in turn and destroying their patrols and burning their outposts to the ground. They are becoming afraid of us. Every Roman soldier we kill, every villa we destroy, every slave we set free adds to their fear.’ Brixus paused to give emphasis to his next words. ‘One day soon we will be strong enough to rekindle the rebellion that Spartacus once led and there will be a new war against those who would keep us as slaves.’
    There were excited cries of approval from the crowd, then an old man at the front took a step forward.
    ‘I too fought for Spartacus. But we were an army. Tens of thousands of us. And the Romans still beat us. You are the leader of a band of runaways and brigands. What chance have we got if we join you? What freedom do you really offer? A few months as fugitives in the hills, in the depth of winter, before we are hunted down, caught and punished. Last time they crucified thousands in order to teach us a lesson. How much greater do you think their anger will be a second time?’ The old man turned to his comrades and raised a hand to draw their attention. ‘I say we’d be better off here. When the soldiers come, we’ll explain that we had no part in tonight’s action.'
    ‘You old fool!’ Brixus shouted him down. ‘Do you think they will listen to you? No. It will make no difference to their desire for revenge. They will make an example of you just the same. Stay here and you will die.’
    ‘We all die, Brixus,' the old man replied. ‘One way or another.'
    ‘Then all that matters is how you die,’ Brixus replied. ‘You can choose to spend the rest of your days living in your own filth, surviving on scraps at the whim of