The Silver Eagle

many men as possible to witness the combat, so the centuries from the nearest barracks were hastily assembled as well. The soldiers needed little encouragement. They poured out into the dawn air, eager to watch the unscheduled entertainment. Instead of the rope square used in the ludus, or the wooden enclosure of the arena, the fighting space was formed by dozens of legionaries, holding their scuta before them. Parthian warriors were stationed at regular intervals around the perimeter, their bows drawn. Another group stood protectively around Pacorus and the senior centurions.

Romulus and Brennus were untied and left to stand in one corner. Rubbing their wrists to restore the circulation in their hands, the two friends paid no attention to the curious stares of the men around them. The insults that filled the air were harder to ignore. These were their former comrades. Romulus burned to deny the charges being thrown at them, but he saved his energy, every scrap of which would be needed in the next few moments. Diagonally opposite were Novius, Ammias and Optatus. The veterans’ armour and weapons had been fetched, and the three were busy donning their mail shirts and bronze helmets. With his left thigh still strapped, Caius was near his friends, his face full of relief that he was not part of it.

Romulus racked his brains for their best option. Somehow at least one of them had to arm himself. Quickly. It would not take their experienced enemies long to injure and kill two unarmed men.

‘We split up,’ whispered Brennus.

Romulus could not believe his ears. ‘Our only hope is to stick together,’ he protested.

‘I’m bigger. Two of the bastards will go for me,’ said the Gaul confidently. ‘That gives you the chance to take a weapon from the third.’

It didn’t seem much of an option.

‘What will you do?’

‘I’ll manage,’ Brennus answered grimly. ‘Just get a sword.’

Romulus had no better alternative, and he had no time to think of one.

The veterans had armed themselves. With chain mail, shields and gladii, they were now a fearsome prospect.

‘Begin!’ shouted Pacorus.

There was a pause.

The commander bellowed an order and his men raised their bows. ‘They will loose on the count of three,’ he said. ‘One. ’

Fury filled Romulus. In the ludus, Memor’s archers had forced him to fight a vicious Goth called Lentulus. That combat had also been to the death. But at least then I was armed, he thought. His heart pounded in his chest. What chance had they?

The three legionaries rushed to stand side by side. Drawing their swords, they brought their scuta together to form a small shield wall.

‘Two.’

They began to advance, their faces grim and set.

Satisfied, Pacorus fell silent.

This is better than crucifixion, thought Brennus, adrenalin pumping through him. ‘Now,’ he muttered and darted away to one side.

Obeying, Romulus shot off in the opposite direction.

Pleasingly, Novius’ and his comrades’ faces were the picture of surprise. But they regained their composure fast. After the slightest pause, Novius and Ammias followed Romulus. Rolling his shoulders, Optatus went for Brennus.

Romulus cursed. The Gaul’s plan had not worked. The veterans also planned to take down the weaker man first.

Him.

‘Can’t even fight with each other, eh?’ Novius sneered as they drew nearer.

‘We’re not the ones who ran,’ retorted Romulus. ‘You are. Damn liars.’

Ammias actually looked guilty.

‘Shut your mouth,’ hissed Novius, lunging forward with his gladius. ‘Filthy slave.’

Angering the little legionary might provide a chink of opportunity, thought Romulus, dodging to the left. A quick thrust from Ammias followed and desperately he shuffled backwards. Gloating, Novius and his comrade split up.

Romulus had a brief moment before he was assailed from in front and behind. Novius was the more dangerous of his opponents, and might see through the only trick he could think of. The young soldier acted immediately. He ran forward and at the last moment, threw himself down on the ground just in front of Ammias, rolling forward to collide with his legs. The risky plan worked, and the veteran fell forward, cursing. Laden down with weapons and his chain mail, he was momentarily helpless. Wriggling free, Romulus jumped to his feet and delivered a huge kick to his enemy’s unprotected groin. Ammias screamed and dropped his sword.

It was the opportunity he had been praying for.

Romulus leaned over and grabbed the veteran’s gladius. But there was no chance of getting the shield as well. He pulled back to avoid a lethal thrust from Novius, who had swept forward to aid his friend. Romulus moved away, sliding his sandals carefully to make sure he did not lose his footing on the icy ground. The little legionary did not pursue him, instead helping up Ammias, who looked more embarrassed than anything. Romulus’ manoeuvre had been something only a novice would fall for. Wincing in pain, Ammias pulled out his pugio and waved it at him.

‘Ready to feel this in your guts?’ he cried.

‘Come and try,’ sneered Romulus, holding up the gladius.

The two veterans made for him at the trot.

Romulus breathed deeply, filling his lungs with cold air. His situation was only a fraction less critical than it had been. He glanced over his shoulder to see how Brennus was doing. To his relief, the Gaul was still unhurt. He was dancing around Optatus, ducking and weaving away from thrusts of the big soldier’s sword.

Again Romulus’ enemies split up, preparing to hit him simultaneously this time.

His fingers closed tightly around the sword’s bone hilt as he watched them approach. It was times like this which separated cowards from the courageous. There was only one thing to do, thought Romulus. Go on the attack. If he waited until they reached him, it would be over in a few heartbeats. Which one? It took a mere instant to decide. Novius. It was Novius who was smaller.

Romulus charged straight at the little legionary, whose eyes widened at his audacity. Preparing himself, Novius ducked behind his scutum, protecting himself from his neck to his lower legs. The curved shield’s size meant that it was almost impossible to deliver a fatal blow to the man holding it. But that was not Romulus’ intention. Closing in, he feinted to one side, letting Novius think that he was attacking from his right. The legionary raised his gladius, ready to strike. At the last instant, the young soldier danced the other way and dropped his left shoulder. With an almighty heave, he barged into Novius’ scutum, using his superior body weight to drive the legionary backwards. Used to having a comrade on his left side to defend him, Novius was caught unawares. Then his caligae slipped on a patch of frost and he fell, landing on the flat of his back. The impact drove the air from his lungs, winding him.

Romulus acted fast. Pulling the heavy scutum up and out of the way, he thrust his sword into his enemy’s throat. Novius’ pupils dilated with shock as the sharp iron blade sliced through soft flesh to grate off the vertebrae in his neck. Bright red blood gushed from the wound, staining the ground beneath. Novius’ mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. Two heartbeats later, he was dead.

It was a quick end for the malevolent little legionary, thought Romulus. Too quick.

He looked back. Pelting in, Ammias was only a few paces away. His voice was distorted in a scream of fury. Again Romulus had to retreat without a shield. But his opponent was able to pick up a gladius as he stepped over Novius’ body. They shuffled around, trading blows, each searching for weaknesses in the other. Twice, Ammias shoved his gilt shield boss at Romulus’ face, but the young soldier was ready for the classic move and dodged backwards both times. Frustrated and angered by Novius’ death, the veteran’s attacks grew more frenzied.