Spartacus: Blood And Sand [updated] Here

Pelorus smiled. It was a terrible thing, like a crack in a tomb. “No, Dominus. I told her the truth. That is the only poison you cannot buy an antidote for.”

He turned and limped back to his stool. The next day, Sura was taken by the magistrate’s men. Spartacus’s rage ignited the rebellion. But Pelorus saw it coming. In the chaos of the escape—the night Spartacus and Crixus and the others broke free, slaughtering Batiatus’s guards—Pelorus did not run. He did not take a sword. spartacus: blood and sand

He did not hear the approaching Roman soldiers. He did not feel the first javelin. The Unbroken was, at last, truly free. Pelorus smiled

Pelorus looked at his mutilated hand. “I believed the same once. That my skill, my fame, my will would shield the one I loved.” He paused. “They sent her to the mines when I lost. I never saw her face again.” I told her the truth

“No,” Pelorus said, tossing the purse to Sura’s killer—he did not yet know she was dead. “I am the one who opens the gates.”

As Batiatus gurgled and fell, Pelorus knelt beside him. “My father did not keep me alive as a lesson for the other gladiators,” he whispered. “He kept me alive because I knew where he buried the gold he stole from the previous champion. You never asked. You only saw a broken slave. That was your failing.”