'So what must I do?' He was all ears.
'I've seen him fight before. That Goth's cocky,' warned Brennus. 'He 'll rush you. Try and get in a killer blow with brute strength. You'll have to hold the bastard off long enough to injure him.' He squinted along the blade 's edge, looking for imperfections. 'Then Lentulus will give you space.
Time to think.'
Romulus chewed thoughtfully on the meat and bread. Cotta was a good teacher, but some in the ludus said that he taught old, outdated techniques.
While Brennus' size and strength were huge factors in his fighting ability, the Gaul was also expert with weapons. He might learn something that would save his life the next day.
'Keep that pig sticker in your belt. Come in useful if things get up close and nasty.' Brennus mimed a stabbing action. 'You knew to hit Flavus where it hurt.'
'Cotta showed me that.'
'A good man, that Libyan. Remember what he taught you. It's all about not forgetting the basics.'
'The basics?'
'Shield up. Thrust forward. Step back.' Brennus grinned. 'I still remember that every time I fight.'
'But I've seen you turn and slash at an opponent before.'
'Only when I know how he moves.' Brennus tapped his head. 'And thinks. Takes a while to get the measure of an enemy. Until you do, play it safe.'
'I will, Brennus.'
Romulus listened for a long time as the Gaul expounded on fighting technique and showed him new moves. Watching him wield a sword was awe-inspiring.
'In the arena, you're supposed to fight according to the gladiator code.' He stared hard at Romulus. 'That's what Cotta says, right?'
The young fighter nodded.
'Fine if you're talking about an ordinary points contest. But when it's to the death . . .' Brennus paused. 'Do whatever it takes.'
'What do you mean?'
'Kick sand in his face.' The Gaul scuffed a heavy sandal along the floor. 'Headbutt him with the edge of your helmet.'
Romulus' mouth fell open.
'Kick him in the balls if you can.'
'That's not fair.'
Brennus looked at Romulus shrewdly. 'Do you think Lentulus will hang back if you fall on the sand?'
He shook his head.
'Fighting in the arena is not about what is fair or unfair,' said the Gaul regretfully. 'It is about one thing only. Survival. Your life – or his!'
Kill or be killed. It was a stark choice.
'It's time Romulus slept,' Astoria broke in. 'Otherwise he 'll be too tired to fight that son of a whore.'
'Always take note of what your woman says.' He kissed Astoria's cheek.
'When do you ever listen to me?' she replied, stroking Brennus' arm.
Romulus was glad to lie back on the carpet, covered by a woollen blanket. The others soon retired to the bed alongside, the Gaul instantly starting to snore. In normal circumstances the noise would have kept Romulus awake for hours, but the nervous tension had drained away, leaving only exhaustion. He closed his eyes and let a dreamless sleep take hold.
In the morning, the gods would decide whether he or Lentulus would die.
Brennus woke Romulus well before dawn. It was still dark outside but Astoria was coaxing the fire in a small brazier.
'It's important to stretch the muscles before a fight.' Brennus led him in a series of exercises for some time before he was satisfied.
Astoria watched them loosen up. When they had finished, she gestured to bowls of steaming porridge. 'Sit down and eat.'
'Thank you, but I'm not hungry.'
'Eat. Even if it's only a few mouthfuls.'
'I'd be sick.'
'There's more than an hour till dawn and you'll be hungry by then.' Brennus sat down and launched into the huge portion that Astoria put in front of him. 'It's not good to fight on an empty stomach either.'
Romulus forced himself to eat the cooked oats. To his surprise, they tasted much better than the slop from the ludus kitchens.
'There's honey in it.' Astoria had seen his expression.
There was silence as they ate.
Wiping his mouth, the Gaul walked to the weapon racks and selected a short stabbing sword. 'Try this for size,' he said. 'A little small for me, but should do you well.'
Romulus took the gladius, admiring the simple wire design of the hilt and lethal edge on the straight blade. He held it loosely, gauging the balance. 'Feels good.'
'Take this too.' Brennus proffered a handsome round shield covered in dark red leather.
Romulus slipped his left arm into the grips and dropped into a crouch, peering over the iron rim, sword ready. 'These are far better quality than those Cotta lets me use.'
'I paid good money for them. Quality weaponry doesn't let you down.'
'Feels heavier than I expected.'
Brennus flashed a smile. 'Look at the bottom.'
Romulus lifted the shield. 'The metal's sharp as a blade!'
'You can slice a man's arm or leg with it. Or smash open his helmet. Like I did with Narcissus yesterday.'
The story of that fight had already been round the ludus, increasing the Gaul's stature even more. Many now said there wasn't a gladiator in Italy who could beat Brennus.
'The fool might still be alive if he hadn't tried to stab me at the end,' the big man said sadly.
'And if I hadn't killed Flavus, Astoria would have died.'
'There is no mercy in the ludus,' agreed Brennus. 'So always have a little surprise ready. And never presume the fight's over until you've cut a man's throat. Or Charon cracks his skull open.'
'I will kill Lentulus.' Romulus was surprised how steady his voice was.
Brennus clapped him on the shoulder. 'What about your manicae and greaves? They'll still be in your cell.'
'No. I can move faster without them.'
Respect flared in Brennus' eyes. 'I knew a man like that once,' he said softly.
Beams of sunlight began to creep through the window, illuminating the floor.
'Let's head outside. Nearly time.'
'May the gods protect you, Romulus,' Astoria blurted.
The Gaul led the way, with Romulus one step behind. The yard was already full of gladiators and a collective sigh went up as the pair emerged into the cool morning air.
Brennus turned quickly. 'Ignore anything they say,' he whispered in Romulus' ear. 'Some will be trying to scare you, others baiting you to get a response. Stay focused. Think only of Lentulus and the fight.'
The combat would take place in the area reserved for training with real weapons. As they walked, Romulus fixed his gaze on Brennus' broad shoulders. Plenty of derogatory comments were hurled.
'Lentulus will gut you like a fish!'
'Time to fight a man fairly – instead of stabbing him in the back.'
'Murderous little bastard!'
A murmillo who had been friends with Flavus spat on the ground directly in front. His hand was ready on the hilt of a curved knife. It seemed the man might do more but Sextus stepped forward, axe raised.
'Leave him be. You'll soon see whether Lentulus can extract revenge for the killing.'
Cowed by the scissores and his double-headed weapon, the murmillo moved back.
It was hard not to feel scared under the baleful glares of so many adult men. Romulus forced himself to inhale slowly, taking the breaths deep into his chest. It was a technique that Juba had taught him. He let the air out gradually and the effect was immediate. Romulus reached the square feeling calmer, following Brennus as he shoved past gladiators pressed up against the ropes. Everyone was eager to witness the duel.
A few fighters muttered encouragement and Romulus' spirits rose. Lentulus was not popular.
His opponent was already in the opposite corner, loosening muscular shoulders. 'I'm going to cut you up. Son of a whore,' he snarled.
Romulus ignored the Goth and continued to breathe deeply. Brennus lifted the rope for him to duck under.
'Let's stop pissing about! The
rest of us have important training to do.' Memor stalked into the centre of the freshly raked sand and glared at both young fighters. His archers were ranged close behind, arrows notched in their drawn bows. Sextus moved to stand near the lanista, his axe at the ready. Sunlight glinted off razor-sharp metal. Romulus wondered with a thrill of dread what purpose Memor might have in mind for the scissores.
'No helmets. I want this over quickly.'
'I've no need.' Romulus smiled at the Goth, who had crammed on as much protection as possible.
Reluctantly Lentulus obeyed, but his right arm was still covered with manicae. Bronze greaves were strapped to the Goth's lower legs and his scutum was larger than that usually carried by secutores. In contrast, Romulus bore only Brennus' shield for defence.
'Remember what I said,' the Gaul muttered. 'Hold him off for a while. Then do what you have to.'
Romulus had just enough time to nod before the lanista looked at both. 'Begin!' Memor quickly stepped away to safety.
Just as Brennus had predicted, Lentulus rushed forward. Romulus raised his shield, moving out to avoid being caught on the ropes. But the Goth didn't attack with his sword. Instead he rammed the big scutum straight into Romulus' chest. The impact knocked him back on to the hot sand. Air rushed from his lungs. Desperately he swung at the secutor's legs, but the blade swept harmlessly off the greaves.
Lentulus stamped the gladius from Romulus' hand, crouching low. 'Stopped me fucking that Nubian bitch.' His eyes were merciless dark pits. 'So now I'm going to gut you.'
'You couldn't have got it up anyway.' Romulus felt for the hilt of his dagger and pulled it free. He would have only one chance.
His enemy drew back to thrust downwards and Romulus acted fast. He lifted the knife and stabbed it into the Goth's foot with all his might, pinning the leather sandal to the ground. Lentulus roared in agony, allowing him to get up safely. The shield was still on his arm, but Brennus' sword lay very close to the secutor.
Lentulus had fallen to one knee, still screaming in pain. Romulus paused, wondering what to do. Eventually the Goth dragged the blade free with a groan and hurled it outside the ropes. He stood with difficulty, the wound bleeding freely.
'You have no gladius. No dagger.' Lentulus raised his weapon, moving towards Romulus more cautiously. With each step, a trail of blood stained the sand.
Romulus eyed his sword, knowing he'd have to recover it as fast as possible. Otherwise there would be no chance of killing Lentulus.
For a short time, the pair circled each other, loud jeers egging them on.
Memor glowered from the side, irritated. Whatever happened, he would lose a gladiator who had cost good money. Brennus watched intently, his jaw clenched.
The Goth was now wary of attacking. Romulus was waiting for a chance to retrieve the gladius, but every time he edged towards it, Lentulus stepped in the way.
'Finish it!' Memor was losing patience. 'Or I'll send in Sextus.'
The little scissores grinned, lifting his axe.
Lentulus' face hardened and he advanced purposefully. The Spaniard would attack the weaker fighter in the ring. He had to kill fast.
Unsure what to do next, Romulus risked a quick glance at Brennus. The Gaul mimed a movement of his shield arm and he remembered. The young man let Lentulus come closer, bracing himself for the barrage of blows.
'I'll break both arms and both legs,' Lentulus panted, 'before I slice open your belly.'
'How's the foot? Looks painful.'
The Goth hammered his sword towards Romulus' head. The parry was difficult, his arm shaking under the force of the blow. But Brennus' shield held firm. He shuffled back a step, instinctively making Lentulus use the injured foot. The secutor cursed and stepped after him, taking a wild sideways slash. Again Romulus held it off, the impact almost numbing his arm.
Abruptly Lentulus changed tactics, stabbing straight at his chest. Romulus had just enough time to deflect the thrust. The wily Goth followed through with a huge shove, knocking him to the ground for the second time. Desperate to finish the fight, Lentulus swung his blade in the air.
Romulus did the only thing he could. He thumped a fist down on the Goth's wounded foot. It wasn't a very hard blow, but it didn't have to be. Lentulus screamed in agony, unable to deliver the coup de grâce. Romulus rolled away and stood up, panting.
Tears ran down Lentulus' face as he swayed in front of Romulus. Time was of the essence. He seized the opportunity and ran straight at the Goth, shield raised as if shoulder-charging.
Lentulus braced himself.
At the last moment, Romulus swept the sharpened edge down in a scything blow with all his momentum. It took off all five toes on Lentulus' right foot.
The Goth shrieked in agony. Blood spurted on to the sand.
Romulus ran to pick up his gladius while Lentulus slumped to one knee, gripping his foot in a futile effort to stop the bleeding. He seemed dazed, staring fixedly at the neat stumps in front of him. The spectators, who had remained silent for some time, began to chant.
'Rom-ulus! Rom-ulus!'
He touched the point of his sword to Lentulus' chin. 'Why did you get involved with those murmillones?' he said. Although Romulus didn't like the Goth, it seemed brutal the quarrel should end like this. But Memor had decreed one of them should die, and it was not going to be him.
Lentulus let go of his foot. Fresh blood poured from the gaping wounds. If the surgeon didn't attend to him shortly, the Goth would collapse from shock. 'I cannot stand.' His voice was taut with pain. 'And I'll never be able to fight again.'
'Finish him!' Romulus heard Sextus yell. The cry was taken up by all.
Except Brennus, whose face was proud but sad. Romulus is like Brac, he thought. A natural. And he doesn't want to kill an unarmed man. Brac wouldn't have either. The Gaul closed his eyes.
The lanista would allow only one outcome.
Noise filled the enclosed yard, recreating the arena's claustrophobic atmosphere.
Romulus saw Memor nod.
It was time.
Heart pounding, adrenalin coursing through every vein, the young man moved closer. Against the odds, he had won a gladiator battle. Romulus did not want to execute Lentulus, but Brennus' advice echoed in his mind. Kill or be killed.
Still he held back, oblivious to the fighters' roars.
As if in a dream, he saw the Goth lunge clumsily at him with a short blade that he 'd concealed under the leather manicae. Romulus was too close to stop the thrust, but managed to deflect it from the groin artery with Brennus' shield.
The action saved his life.
Romulus staggered back, vision blurring, the dagger buried deep in his right thigh. Teeth bared, the secutor tried to knock him over, get close enough to finish the job.
It would only be a few moments before shock took over. Slamming the scutum downwards, he caught Lentulus' wrist with the sharp edge, drawing blood. The Goth cursed and pulled away.