Free The Gladiator Prince by Minnette Meador

     
     
     
    Chapter VIII
     
     
    Thane stared at the forty gladiators around him as they discussed his dilemma. Someone had suggested an afternoon escape with the food wagons, but he knew the best time to leave would be in the small hours of the morning. In recent months, Abella had been more lenient with him. Thane knew he could merely walk out of the compound at his discretion, if he liked. The only reason the guards escorted him to the baths was because of the women. As a rule, the doors had neither locks nor guards.
    They all knew the punishment for escape: crucifixion to every sixth gladiator in the familia and whipping for all the rest. If someone went missing and was not found quickly, the gladiatorial guard who inspected the beds would also lose his life for his negligence. None of the others would leave them to face an ignominious death while they escaped. To die in the arena was to die with honor; to die on the cross because one of your kind betrayed you was unspeakable. For this reason, gladiators rarely escaped.
    Thane did what he had done for the last two years with these men; he trusted them with his life.
    When Thane told them about the slaver raid, Thaddeus had been furious.
    “To take strong, brave men as fighters who can defend themselves and possibly leave with some piece of slaver is one thing,” he bellowed after Thane finished his story. “But to take innocent children and defenseless mothers, why, the gods will spit upon these animals! Impudens es leno !” The familia looked on with murmurs. “They should be sold to the pharaohs to die in the scorching sun.”
    “Peace, Thaddeus,” Thane said to the one-eyed hulk from Greece. “That is not helping.” The common room’s wooden walls seemed to bend in upon him as he sat. The wine was tasteless. Loss had dulled his senses. His face seemed too heavy. He had to force himself to listen.
    Darweshi stood in the center of the circled benches, one long black exposed arm glistening in the torchlight, the other buried somewhere in the depths of his strange robes. Adjusting the brightly colored material, he leaned into Thane. “How long to get children?” The torchlight flickered in his black shining eyes.
    “Three days to the ship, twenty days on the voyage one-way, then time to find them and return. Eight weeks, perhaps…”
    The gigantic black man stroked the few strands that still remained of his curly black beard, the hairs of which had slowly been sacrificed to the rag doll he kept in memory of his family. “When do you fight next?”
    Thane searched the horde of men sitting in a circle around him. He would have given his life for any one of them, but ironically, he would have killed them in an instant in the arena if required. It was a code that had taken him a long time to adjust to, but that had to be in place for the survival of the group. “I fought a few weeks ago in Manduessedum, so not until half way through the cold season.”
    “Huh?” one of the newer members grunted.
    “When the frost comes,” Thane added. “ D ecumo-mnsris. On the ides.”
    Darweshi nodded solemnly. “Eight weeks. It is a long time.”
    “Can you do it?”
    Thaddeus lifted his hand to point at Darweshi. “A witch, this one,” he said tossing them a toothless grin. “If anyone can it would be him.”
    Darweshi searched the faces of the forty sitting there and finally stopped at one. “Brennus, you are most like the prince.”
    Thane watched the Brit. Brennus’ people had warred with Thane’s tribe for generations, but hopefully that had all been put to the side now. Brennus was a big man, as large as Thane, with the same shock of red hair and blues eyes. Truth be known, Thane was certain they shared an ancestor or two. Three rusty braids fell from his square chin almost to the middle of his chest.
    “Aye,” he replied then spat. “I am prettier than his lordship here.” Everyone laughed when he pushed his jaw from side to side and eyed Thane for