‘Why? You mightn’t get the same chance again for months!’
It could be far longer, thought Mutt ruefully. ‘I’d best keep an eye on my men.’
Aios saw the resolve in his eyes and let his arm fall. ‘Duty comes first, eh?’
‘Always,’ replied Mutt with a sigh. ‘A few more cups of wine, and that’s me.’
‘The perils of command in your army!’ said Aios with a grin. ‘Fortunately, I have no need to lead my warriors in the morning.’ He downed his drink in one go.
A shout dragged their attention away from conversation. Men opposite were turning around on their benches. Mutt craned his neck to see. A huge warrior stood over the next table, glowering at the soldiers who were seated there. Mutt’s stomach clenched; he half stood, hoping that this wasn’t what it looked like. With considerable amounts of drink taken on both sides, it wouldn’t take that much for a mass brawl to start. If things degenerated that far, it was all too easy for lives to be lost, and if that happened-
‘Another thing that we Cenomani love as much as wine, is wrestling.’ Aios’ voice was by his ear. ‘That’s Acco, one of the best wrestlers in the village. He’ll be wanting a match with one of your men.’
Mutt felt relief that a fight wasn’t about to break out, but he wasn’t sure if a wrestling contest was a good idea either. What he thought was irrelevant, however. Ithobaal had already stood up to thunderous cheers from his fellows. ‘FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!’ the spearmen shouted.
Firelight glittered off the silver coin in Aios’ fingers. ‘This for Acco to win,’ he said, grinning.
Mutt glanced at Acco’s bulging muscles and winced inwardly. Even if he was more pissed than Ithobaal — quite a likely prospect, given how he was swaying — he was still half again as big as his opponent. Yet it could possibly be considered rude not to wager with his host. ‘My purse is in my tent,’ he began.
‘I will take your word for it,’ interjected Aios.
‘Fine.’ They shook hands.
A ring of baying men quickly formed, with the two protagonists in the centre. Aios stepped within and took up a position between the contestants. He explained the rules to Ithobaal. Mutt listened intently. There was to be no punching, biting or gouging. The contest had to stay within the circle. It would end when one man spoke or signalled with his hand that he gave up. Other than that, there were no conditions. Ithobaal nodded his understanding. Acco growled his eagerness.
Aios raised and lowered his hand before retreating at speed. Shouts and roars of encouragement broke out from the supporters on both sides.
Gods, don’t let him injure Ithobaal too badly, Mutt asked. He didn’t care about the silver coin that he would lose.
The pair fell upon each other like wild beasts. Acco tried to throw his arms around Ithobaal, attempting to crush him, but the Ithobaal was too fast. He ducked under Acco’s swinging arms, swept his own right arm around the his back and flipped him around and over his hip. Acco fell heavily, to a chorus of jeers from Ithobaal’s supporters. Ithobaal’s immediate attempt to land on top of Acco and pin him down, however, was a stunning failure. Acco managed to roll onto his back, and grabbed Ithobaal in a mighty bear hug.
Mutt watched in astonishment as Ithobaal struggled to break free. Although Ithobaal was much stronger than he was, his efforts still looked like those of an insect trying to free itself from a spider’s web. Ithobaal strained and roared and kicked his legs. All his efforts came to nothing. In frustration, he tried to headbutt Acco. Anticipating the move, Acco twisted and met the blow with his cheekbone — and laughed, tightening his grip.
‘Acco’s as strong as an ox!’ cried Aios in delight.
‘Clearly,’ growled Mutt, hearing Ithobaal groan.
A moment later, to great roars from the tribesmen, Ithobaal conceded. He did so with poor grace, barely accepting Acco’s friendly handshake.
‘A one-sided contest,’ said Mutt, clapping Aios on the shoulder. ‘Acco is a true champion.’
‘He’s also one of the best warriors in the tribe.’
‘Look. Another of my soldiers wants to take him on.’ This time it was the biggest man in the phalanx, a simple fellow who went by the nickname of ‘The Bull’. He’d have more chance against Acco, thought Mutt, the wine strengthening his conviction.
‘This will be more of a contest,’ said Aios, his eyes glinting. ‘Double or nothing on our last wager?’
‘Of course,’ agreed Mutt. His luck might be better now.
But it wasn’t. Before long, ‘The Bull’ had also been beaten, and after him, one of Mutt’s spearmen who had always claimed that he’d been trained by a Greek wrestler.
By now, Mutt had lost three coins to Aios. Acco stood in the centre of the circle, bare chested now, covered in sweat. He looked undefeatable, like a statue of a god come to life. No more of Mutt’s men were prepared to fight him.
‘Fancy a bout against him yourself?’ asked Aios.
Mutt snorted. ‘Are you out of your mind? He’d crush me like a beetle.’
Aios looked around the circle, but the spearmen were all staying put. ‘It seems that there are no further contenders. The Cenomani win this battle, I think.’
‘They do. Without doubt,’ replied Mutt. Inside, though, he was feeling sore. Would your warriors stand against my phalanx, he wondered. I’m not so sure. With luck, though, that would never happen. Instead, Devorix and his men would join Hannibal and his army on their quest to defeat Rome.
‘Ha!’ cried Aios. ‘The struggle is not over!’
Mutt couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Ithobaal, ‘The Bull’, and the Greek-trained soldier had all attacked Acco at the same time. Ithobaal had grabbed one arm and ‘The Bull’ another while their comrade did his best to knock Acco’s legs from under him. Shit, Mutt thought. Every Gaul who’s here will join in now. He roared at his men to stop, but there was no way in hell that they could hear. The noise from the entire audience had become deafening.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Aios. ‘They’ll be disciplined for this.’
To his surprise, Aios laughed. ‘I like their spirit,’ he cried.
By now, several tribesmen had advanced into the ring now, clearly intent on helping Acco. Aios moved swiftly, darting between them and the heaving mass that was Acco and his three assailants. He shouted an order, and all but two of the warriors backed off. Aios withdrew to Mutt’s side. ‘It’s a bit more even now, eh?’
‘I suppose so,’ replied Mutt, unable to stop himself from chuckling at the situation.
The three-way struggle went on for some time, long enough for Mutt to sink two more cups of wine. Inevitably, Acco beat ‘The Bull’ again, but Ithobaal and the Greek-trained soldier both overcame their opponents. Mutt’s men went crazy when the last tribesman conceded defeat.
Mutt worried that things might turn nasty at this point, but the warriors around him seemed to take the whole thing in good spirit, laughing and clapping the nearest of his men on the back. He turned to Aios. ‘Two contests apiece now. That makes us even!’
‘Your soldiers are to be commended for not giving up.’ Aios saluted him with his cup. ‘Perhaps you and I should have a bout now, to finish it?’
The blond Gaul had five years on him at least, thought Mutt. He was probably less pissed too, given the way the wine was now fizzing through his veins. ‘Another day, maybe,’ he said. ‘When I’m not so drunk.’
Aios chuckled. ‘You’re a prudent man, Mutt. I can see why you’ve got to your position. Don’t enter a fight unless you’re sure of a victory.’
‘Something like that,’ Mutt agreed.
‘Come, let’s share another cup of wine before you go.’
So he did.
The next morning, Mutt overslept for the first time in many months. He’d been up half the night, pissing and drinking water, so it was no surprise really, he chided himself. Bogu, who had woken him, had a little smile on his face that he chose to ignore.