The guardsman backed away and hurried down the ramp. At the bottom, he turned, crossed his arms over his chest and watched.
***
As soon as the guardsman cleared the space, the Etruscī lashed out with his sword. The blade, coming backhanded, swept towards Petrus’ chest. But as he’d been coached, Petrus had his eye on his foe.
Releasing the spear with his left hand, the Insubri swung the shaft around his body and behind his back. Continuing the arc, he spun away from the blade. The tip of his spear slashed across the Etruscī’s ribs as Petrus completed the circle. With blood running down his hip and leg, the warrior shuffled back. Petrus let him retreat.
In the crowd, people jumped to their feet, made slashing motions with their arms as if they too were in the arena. Those weekend warriors, no doubt voicing their opinion of how they would have handled the first engagement, went unheard in the thunder from the crowd.
The warriors circled each other. Petrus always moving to his right and away from the blade. He kept his feet wide apart making his steps appear awkward. In reality, the big Insubri maintained his balance and options for advancing or moving away from his opponent. The Etruscī, on the other hand, kept his feet close together so he could use his thigh muscles to drive powerful sword strikes.
Petrus flipped his spear, so the dull end faced the shield. Then, he smacked the shield with a jab. In response, the Etruscī hacked twice at the wooden shaft. Again, Petrus tapped the shield and the Etruscī chipped into the shaft. When Petrus pulled back, the end of the spear hung down, held by a few thin strips of hardwood fiber. Removing his left hand from the shaft, he raised the spear as if it was a fishing pole and pointed at the dangling piece.
The Etruscī took his eyes off his foe. Petrus whipped the shaft back and forward. The dangling piece broke free and flew at the Etruscī’s face. He should have ignored the small dowel as his helmet would protect him. But human nature took over and the Etruscī flinched back as the piece of wood came at him.
With his opponent momentarily distracted, Petrus slapped his left hand on the shaft and pulled back. The spear rotated and Petrus drove his right arm forward bringing the iron head up. As the iron head came level with his foe, the Insubri bent his knees and surged forward.
The iron tip slid by the shield, cracking two ribs before it pierced the Etruscī’s lung. As he staggered back, Petrus followed twisting the spear. Two more ribs broke as the broad head opened the deep gash.
Screaming at the blessed, human blood pouring onto the sand, the crowd cheered. They forgot who they placed their bets on as the Etruscī fell to his knees, gasping and dying. Petrus tossed his spear away, turned to the spectators, made a rude gesture, and marched from the arena.
“Never take your eyes off your foe,” Petrus explained as he walked by Alerio. “I’ll remember that the next time we meet, Legionary. Then, I’ll kill you.”
Men ran to the dead Etruscī, grabbed hold of his ankles, and dragged off the carcass. Another man walked the sand raking it until all traces of the fight were erased.
“Were you pleased by the sacrifice?” shouted the guardsman announcer. He was answered by wild cheering. “Gladiators forward! Bring on the next two barbarians!”
Alerio faced the other tent and saluted Daedalus.
“Legion training one, swordsman instructions zero,” Alerio taunted.
Without replying, Daedalus shouted something into his tent. In response, an even bigger Etruscī warrior ducked and brushed the sides of the tent opening as he lumbered into view. The Corporal still didn’t say anything. He let the leering grin on his face speak for him.
“Eolus! Give him his shield and sword and send him out,” Alerio called into his tent.
Moments later the wiry Insubri emerged.
“He is a big bastardis,” Eolus swore as he stopped beside Alerio. “Why me?”
“Look at how he holds his shield,” explained the Legionary. “Far away from his body.”
“And that helps me stay alive, how?” asked the Insubri.
“Thick arms, legs, chest, and body,” Alerio observed. “Stay away from him and he’ll soon need a nap.”
“Nap?” Eolus commented as he strolled up the ramp and onto the sand.
The announcer glanced to his left and tilted his head back to look up at the giant Etruscī warrior. Then slowly he faced right and, in an exaggerated manner, studied the leaner Insubri. With a smirk on his face, he held out his hands as if asking a question.
The crowd laughed and people ran for the betting stands. He gave them a long time to place their coins before he put his palms together.
“Citizens of the Republic, the funeral games continue,” he announced using his joined hands to point at the combatants. “I give you Insubri against Etruscī! Fight!”
After the quick engagement at the start of the first fight, he jumped back from between the two gladiators before rushing down the ramp.
***
Eolus let his shield hang off his arm and his sword point drag in the sand as he paced back and forth. The crowd didn’t like it and they voiced their opinion. Ignoring the taunts, the Insubri continued his casual strolling.
The Etruscī finally grew impatient. Swinging his sword across his shield, he stepped forward. Eolus ducked and ran to the other side of the arena. The giant stalked after him but the wiry Insubri hopped to the side when the blade swung again.
Many people jumped to their feet and yelled insults at the fighters. Eolus jogged to the front edge of the arena and faced the crowd. Then he shrugged as if he didn’t understand their reactions. The giant stomped across the arena.
Eolus glanced over his shoulder then back at the throng. Screams at the expected death of the Insubri arose from the spectators. Just as the giant planted his feet, the Insubri crossed his shield and sword in front of his chest. He fell backwards and rolled. Coming up beside the giant, Eolus sliced a slab of flesh from the Etruscī’s back before skipping to the far side of the arena. To the delight of the crowd, fat drops of blood rained down on the sand.
Angry and in pain, the Etruscī lumbered towards Eolus. Swinging his sword hard from side to side, he charged. But, the Insubri rolled away from the blade and used his shield to deflect a blow when the giant twisted in his direction.
Eolus ran to the left side of the arena and rested his shield and sword on his knees as if exhausted. Then, he tossed back his head and yawned with a wide opened mouth. The giant, recognizing that he was being mocked, ambled towards the Insubri.
Expecting the Insubri to dodge away, especially with him jerking from side to side as if deciding which way to run, the giant held his shield out as far as his arm would extend. With one direction blocked by the shield and his sword raised as if an extension of his arms, the Etruscī shuffled forward.
Eolus was so confused, he almost didn’t react. The giant had his arms out wide to keep him from bolting. It was as if the Etruscī wanted to give him a hug. After too long a wait, Eolus rushed inside the giant’s arms and buried his blade. Driving upward, the tip split the man’s heart and stuck. As he attempted to free the blade, the giant toppled over on him.
Two city guardsmen on the far side jumped onto the sand and ran towards the downed fighters. With daggers in hand, they fumbled with rolling the giant off the Insubri.
Alerio shouted, “Cimon! Drustanus!”
He vaulted onto the sand and sprinted towards the guardsmen. They had the dead Etruscī rolled to the side and one had a foot on Eolus’s chest. The other pulled back his arm preparing to stab the Insubri.
Alerio leaped and twisted sideways in the air. His leg hit the one stepping on Eolus and his shoulder plowed into the one holding the knife. The three tumbled back tangled up in a mass of elbows, knees, fists, and headbutts.
Four city guardsmen raced from beside their tent and ran towards the melee. Then they stopped. Marching across the arena were four heavy infantrymen. Their shields parted slightly to allow for the steel blades of their gl
adii. With only their eyes visible between the tops of their shields and bills of their helmets, the Legionaries presented a wall of horror.
“Do not interfere,” Drustanus warned the city guards from behind his shield. Then to Alerio, who was fighting with the original two, asked. “Do you require assistance?”
Alerio hammered a fist into a guardsman’s chin and the man fell to the sand. After that, he grabbed the other and drove a knee into the man’s solar plexus. The guardsman folded up and expelled all the air from his lungs. Gasping and coughing, the man crawled away.
Alerio pushed to his feet. “I believe I have it under control,” he said as he brushed sand from his tunic and scarf.
“Euge! Euge!” shouted the crowd. “Great show. Euge!”
“They think you’re the comic relief for the funeral games,” suggested Cimon.
“I might be. Who saves a barbarian?” confessed Alerio before ordering. “Let’s finish the show. Cimon, standby, Drustanus right pivot.”
The four Legionaries stomped their left feet in the sand and as a single line swung to face the attendees. “Salute and about face and forward march.”
The crowd cheered the five Legionaries as they marched down the ramp. While four smiled and basked in the applause, one blushed. Lance Corporal Sisera didn’t look at Senator Maximus sitting on Consul Flaccus’ platform. He feared what the look his patron’s face would relay.
Alerio’s day in the public eye wasn’t done. There was still one more death match owed to the dead.
***
“Gladiators! Gladiators to the sand,” the announcer called out.
Eutropius collected his javelin and shield and asked, “Any words of advice, weapon’s instructor?”
“Stay alive,” replied Alerio.
Eutropius took his position beside the announcer. They waited patiently but, not so the crowd. Groups stood blocking the betting stands waiting to see the final fighter. When he came from the tent, they couldn’t make up their minds. Both barbarians were the same height and same build. As far as physical clues went, it was a toss-up.
“Citizens of the Republic, the funeral games continue with a final match,” the announcer explained. “I give you, Insubri against Etruscī! Fight!”
The announcer ducked and backed away. He didn’t slow down until he was at the bottom of the ramp.
The Etruscī warrior asked, “Why should we fight each other? We were brothers a couple of months ago. Basking in the defeat of the Legion.”
“For one of us to go free,” replied Eutropius as he slid his foot back to improve his stance. “To return to our homeland and continue to resist the Republic.”
“And so, it is, one of us must die so one may live,” the Etruscī said softy. He shook his head and as he lowered his eyes, he let his shield droop to the side.
Eutropius saw the opening and started to attack. Then, he glanced down at the Etruscī’s feet. They were in a perfect fighter’s stance and his knees were slightly bent. He might have been speaking philosophically and bowing his head, but the man was ready to pounce. To test the theory Eutropius twirled his javelin. Before he could completely step back, the sword slammed into his shield.
“What happened to brotherly love?” inquired Eutropius as he shifted to the right.
“One of us must live,” the Etruscī replied. “I decided it should be me.”
He began a series of blows to Eutropius’ shield. Each strike in the same place and with the same intensity. Almost as if he didn’t have a different tactic in his arsenal. He pounded until the Insubri fell into a defensive rhythm and began to anticipate the next hit.
‘Trap’, the word popped into Eutropius’ mind when he pushed his shield early to deflect the anticipated strike. If a fighter wanted anything in a battle, it was to know where and when your opponent would react. Eutropius so far had been predictable, deadly predictable.
On the next blow, the Insubri angled his shield. The blade struck and slid low and wide. Eutropius swung his javelin over his shield and slammed it into the Etruscī’s helmet. The man rocked back but Eutropius didn’t give him time to recover. Jabbing over both shields, he stabbed four times before the Etruscī collected himself and backed away.
Eutropius knew he’d broken flesh by the roar of the spectators. When the Etruscī raised his shield to prevent an attack over his shield, the Insubri dropped to his knees and raked the javelin’s point across his opponent’s ankles. Blood spurted from the slices and the man collapsed to his knees.
Rolling back, Eutropius jumped to his feet and ran around behind the Etruscī. While trying to turn, his opponent fell over when his feet didn’t respond to the commands. The javelin severed his spine and Eutropius left it sticking out of his back like a flagpole.
“I’ll take my pony, my safe passage letter, and my life,” Eutropius said to Alerio as he dropped his shield and stripped off his helmet. “You taught me well, Legionary. I’ll remember the lessons.”
***
Blood from the last fight must have been for the crowd as the man with the rake didn’t bother to clean up the sand. Both Consuls left their platforms and started down the hill trailing their entourages. Because it was a nice afternoon, the crowd stayed. They were drinking, eating and a few were acting out combat scenes from the three matches.
Corporal Daedalus and most of the city guards had left. Only a few hung around to watch the citizens enjoy the after effects of the funeral games.
“Good job, Lance Corporal Sisera,” Senator Maximus gushed. Then he scolded, “We could have done without the Legion demonstrations. Especially after my talk about Sicilia.”
“Yes General. I apologize,” Alerio replied. Relief flooded his stomach at the Senator’s words.
“Now, I want to see my barbarians,” demanded Maximus.
He brushed by Alerio as did Consul Flaccus, the five Senators, and Belen. Alerio followed them into the tent. As he entered, he heard Maximus telling his group the strengths and weaknesses of the three Insubris. Alerio relaxed when Belen handed each warrior a piece of parchment.
“I am a man of my word.” Maximus boasted. “Those are your letters of safe passage. A cavalry escort will be here soon and Belen has clothing for you. I don’t think Master Kellerian will let you keep his armor.”
The Armorer stood at the rear of the tent next to a smoking brazier. He bowed slightly at the mention of his name.
Before Maximus or anyone else could say more, Consul Caudex’s voiced carried to them from outside.
“Citizens of the Republic! The Qart Hadasht Empire is threatening our trade route through the Messina Strait,” the Consul yelled.
Consul Flaccus, Senator Maximus, and the others hurried out of the tent. Alerio stuck his head out to see Appease Caudex standing in the arena with a fistful of bloody sand in each hand. Behind the Consul, Tribune Gaius Claudius, standing straight and tall, was the perfect image of a Legion officer.
“They have taken Messina and stolen the riches of the port and the surrounding lands,” he continued. “By heritage, the Sons of Mars are descendants of the Republic.”
The crowd stopped mingling and everyone on the slope turned to watch the new entertainment. After witnessing the blood matches, they were excited, and Consul Caudex was saying the right things to arouse the public.
“We have suffered financially from recent wars. Now is the time. We must march on, we must fight for, we must own Sicilia! The island’s riches wait to fill our coffers. It’s there for the taking. You witnessed the precision of our Legionaries, here on this very sand today. Now is the time for the Qart Hadasht Empire to taste the steel of our Legionaries.”
The crowd was yelling their approval. Consul Flaccus whispered something to Senator Maximus. They marched away from the cheering and the rest of Consul Caudex’s speech.
“Tomorrow, in the Senate, I am asking for a Legion to go south and throw the Empire out of Messina and off Sicilia,” Caudex bellowed. He began letting the blood-stained sand po
ur through his fingers. “Our Legions have beaten the Etruscī and the Insubri. Now it’s time for the Empire to learn the power of the Republic. They will leave Sicilia. Or, by my hands, their blood will flow and color the sands of Messina red.”
***
Alerio pulled his head back in the tent.
“Has Senator Maximus left?” asked Tomas Kellerian. When Alerio nodded yes, Tomas turned to Seventh squad, and shouted, “Now!”
The Legionaries jumped on the Insubri warriors. They held the barbarians down with their right arms stretched out.
“Master Kellerian, I don’t understand what we’re doing,” protested Alerio. “These savages have been freed and given safe passage.”
“You asked for my condition to train them,” the Armorer replied as he walked to the brazier and lifted out an iron bar. One end glowed red-hot. “I spent my life defending the Republic against barbarians like these.”
Tomas pulled a sharp pair of clippers from his belt. Kneeling on Petrus’ arm, he sheared off the man’s little finger and his ring finger. While the Insubri screamed, Kellerian cauterized the stumps. Next, he knelt on Eolus’ arm and preformed the same brutal surgery. After cutting off Etruscan’s fingers and sealing the nubs, the Armorer stood.
“My condition? That after they learned to survive the arena, they would never properly hold a sword, again” Master Kellerian explained. “In the future, no Legionary will fall from their blades. That, Lance Corporal Sisera was my condition.”
Chapter 12 - Wisdom of the Clay Ear
Thomasious Harricus stood in the doorway and watched as five Legionaries marched into the courtyard of the Chronicles Humanum Inn.
“Take a load off,” Alerio ordered the Legionaries as he broke formation and headed towards the Innkeeper. “Good afternoon, Master Harricus.”
“Lance Corporal Sisera. I assume I’ll have to feed them?” inquired Thomasious. He was pointing at the infantrymen who were stacking their shields and lifting off their helmets.
“Legionaries are always hungry,” Alerio agreed. “A hot meal would be appreciated.”
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