Hostage to Fortuna

going further, what itmeans to carry the Pullus name. More than anything, meeting a manwho was every bit as large and strong, but vastly more skilled inall form of combat is still the most valuable thing I have learnedto this point, and often the lessons were learned quite painfully.If I had faced Berdic when I was the paid man Gnaeus Volusenus, itis entirely possible that he could have defeated me. When he backedaway to catch his breath, I wanted to shout at him not to do so,because while I could sense I was on the verge of lapsing into myrage, I was not quite there. Then, from behind Berdic, where thecrowd of exclusively male faces lined the length of the square,there was movement, and I saw Tincommius, but he was looking awayfrom us, and I saw him beckoning to someone. He wants Mandubraciushere, was my first thought, but I was wrong, it was not hisgrandfather. Even in the orange glow of the torches, I could seehow pale she was, which accentuated the purple-black bruise thatcovered the left quarter of her eye and face as our eyes met. Thatis the last thing I remember of the next span ofheartbeats.

We never had theopportunity to ask, but both Gnaeus and I are certain thatTincommius’ bringing Bronwen to a spot where Gnaeus could see herwas no accident. Whatever his motives, the result was somethingthat left no doubt whatsoever about what Gnaeus is capable of, andI am certain that Gnaeus’ destruction of Berdic is still a topic ofconversation among the Parisii. Whereas Berdic had moved quicklyfor his size, there was no comparison with what Gnaeus did, and asproof, I will simply state that Berdic never threw another punch. Ido not want to give a false impression; Gnaeus did not beat Berdicto death with his fists, although he certainly did hit the Parisii,his first punch not with his right hand, but his left, and notaimed at Berdic’s face but directly underneath the breastbone. Evenover the shouting of the crowd, we could hear the breath rush fromthe barbarian’s lungs, his eyes going wide, but while he reacted tothe next punch Gnaeus threw by raising his hands to protect hisface, which was a right, he was far too late to even partiallydeflect the fist that struck him directly on the point of his chin.Because of my vantage point, with Gnaeus facing away from me, I wasable to see how he used his entire weight, violently twisting hiships in time with the punch, and if he had had agladius in his hand, I would havejudged it a perfect second position thrust that comes over the topof a shield. Gnaeus’ head had certainly rocked back when Berdicstruck him; what Berdic’s head did was snap back more violentlythan I have ever seen before, and I believe that the Parisii wasnever really conscious after that, which was probably a good thingfor him. He reeled backward, his back slamming into the tables onthe far side of the square, and even in the moment, I could seethat Bronwen was on the opposite side of the tables just a matterof inches away from him. It was what I saw reflected in her facethen, which I would describe as an expression of a fierce joy asshe watched Berdic staggering that informed me of where hersympathies lay.

Within a heartbeat of his last punch, asBerdic struggled to regain his wits, Gnaeus’ hand struck again, notin a punch but to grab with his right hand the wide leather beltthat the Britons use to keep their trousers up, while his leftlashed out to plunge his fingers into the soft flesh aroundBerdic’s windpipe. What happened next is difficult to describe, butI will do my best. Bending his knees, Gnaeus snatched Berdic offthe ground, then lifted a man who, if he did not weigh as much asGnaeus was very close, up and above his head with his arms notfully extended only because there was not enough room overhead.Berdic had instinctively reached up with both hands to grab atGnaeus’ left hand, which was clamped around his throat, and it wasclear by the manner in which the Parisii’s muscles flexed and wentrigid that he was desperately trying to wrench Gnaeus’ hand fromaround his windpipe with all of his strength. It could not evenhave been a full heartbeat, but etched in my memory is the image ofone man holding another one aloft above his head for what seemedlike many, many more. When he performed this move, Gnaeus hadturned slightly so that I caught a glimpse of his face, and Isuspect that my reaction was the same as those around the square,which was what I can only describe as a stab of fear, and I amspeaking as his clerk and his friend. It was the kind of face thatyanks grown men from a deep sleep into a terrified wakefulness,screaming in fear at the face of a demon who has invaded yourdreams to hunt you down and kill you. Regardless of this glimpse, Isuppose what was most disturbing was the seeming ease with whichGnaeus Pullus, in essentially one continuous motion, lifted Berdicabove his head so that the Parisii went from standing on his feetto essentially upside down as Gnaeus released his grasp on of theParisii’s throat, breaking the desperate grip Berdic had with bothhands around his wrist as if they were not even there as he slammedBerdic headfirst into the hardpacked dirt floor, using the belt forleverage to increase the power of the impact.

The shouting ceased asabruptly as what happens when a Centurion calls his Centuryto intente but in the instantbefore, when everyone watching was in full voice, the sound ofBerdic’s neck snapping, and his skull being crushed like an egg wasstill clearly audible above the shouting; it is a sound that I knowI will never forget, and I suspect the other onlookers feel thesame way, while Berdic’s body was, quite strikingly, in almost theidentical posture I had seen when my infant daughter Iras suddenlybecame exhausted as she crawled across the floor, immediatelyfalling asleep on her