A weak cheer greeted the arrival of Bonosus and three of his guards. All now wore full military-style armour and heavy bronze helmets; and they were armed with seven-foot cavalry lances. With such weaponry and protection, the four of them could take on any animal or gladiator; as well as deter any thoughts of escape.
Indavara had resolved to make no such attempt. Even in the unlikely event that he could clear the arena, his face was so well known within the city that he would be picked up again in hours. He would not waste either mental or physical energy on false hope; he knew how Capito’s mind worked, and he knew he would face his greatest ever challenge this day. He had accepted his fate.
Bonosus stepped into his line of sight and gestured towards the barrel. Indavara glanced across at Axe and Spear, now deep in conversation on the other side of the bridge. Axe was doing most of the talking. Judging by their body language, Indavara guessed they didn’t know each other. That was good. He walked over to the barrel and looked inside, and at first he thought it was empty. Only when he leaned over the edge and reached into the shadowy depths did he realise there was something at the bottom. It turned out to be a tiny dagger: little more than a three-inch blade sandwiched between two lengths of wood. It looked like the kind of home-made weapon a boy might carry.
Bonosus made no attempt to hide his amusement as Indavara stared disbelievingly down at the blade. The chief guard then signalled to the criminals to raise their weapons. Spear just about managed to get his in the air. Axe, however, spun the weapon around his head with some aplomb. Bonosus indicated that it was Indavara’s turn.
Shaking his head, Indavara held up the blade, unsure if the crowd would even be able to see it. The immediate chorus of booing suggested they had. Bonosus and the other guards withdrew to form a perimeter around the box.
Maesa’s expression suggested he shared the crowd’s opinion but he nonetheless waved to Indavara and mouthed: ‘Ready?’
Indavara nodded.
The centurion ignored the criminals and faced the podium. ‘It is time! Time for the first clash of this contest! Let the battle begin!’
Axe and Spear looked across at the man they would have to kill, then at each other.
Indavara moved up to the box and saw that the interior hadn’t been changed. Fixed to the base were hundreds of pointed objects spaced about five inches apart: sword blades and spear-tips, shards of glass and upturned nails. Indavara had seen several men perish by falling from the bridge and none of them had died quickly. Close to the base were gaps in the wood to drain the blood out.
He examined the knife again. Despite the ridiculous size, it was well-made. If he could get close enough, he could kill with it. Bonosus sent two of his men towards Indavara but he didn’t need any encouragement; experience would favour him on the bridge. Two strides and a neat leap carried him up on to the steps and prompted a burst of applause.
Bonosus and another of his men moved towards Spear. He looked all set to protest but then Axe stepped in front of him. With a word to Spear, he held the weapon in one hand and climbed up the steps on to the bridge. The crowd reaction was mixed. Some commended his bravery, others mocked his arrogance. Spear walked away to Indavara’s left, around the corner of the box.
So that was to be their tactic: to attack him from two sides. He started across the bridge, knowing he had to judge his speed carefully. He didn’t want to appear too adept, but he had to move far enough to draw Spear up on to the box behind him.
The bridge was moving now, an unpredictable rippling motion that swiftly focused the mind. Axe held his weapon out in front of him, advancing slowly with carefully chosen steps.
Indavara stopped close to the centre of the bridge, then looked over his shoulder as the crowd yelled a warning. Spear had just climbed up on to the box. Fabricating indecision, Indavara now switched his gaze between his opponents as both moved towards him. Axe was three yards away. He shouted at Spear to hurry up. Indavara turned again and saw that Spear had taken two shaky steps on to the bridge. Precisely where he wanted him.
He spun round and ran back across the bridge as fast as he dared, arms out to steady him.
Spear froze, eyes wide.
‘Don’t turn!’ yelled Axe. ‘Keep your spear up! Don’t turn!’
But Spear had already turned. One of his feet slipped between two timbers. Shaking his leg free, he reached the edge of the box just as Indavara hurled himself chest first into his back.
The smaller man was driven into the air, then into the ground. Winded and helpless, he’d barely raised his head before Indavara punched the knife twice into the side of his neck. He then dropped the blade and grabbed the spear.
It was a heavy weapon — and not designed for throwing — but the distance was short and he had to catch his second opponent before he could reach safety.
Axe was still tottering back towards the edge of the box when Indavara let fly. The spear-head caught him on the flank; a glancing blow, but enough to unbalance him. Axe toppled backwards and his heavy body thumped down, impaled on the viciously sharp objects below.
Instinct turned Indavara around but he needn’t have worried. Spear was pawing at his neck, vainly trying to stem the flow of blood. Indavara took a moment to wipe the knife clean on the man’s tunic then left him where he lay. He walked past the box but didn’t look inside. He knew Axe was still alive though — he could hear him whimpering.
Even though both men would certainly perish from their wounds and there was no need for the governor to make a decision, custom dictated that Indavara bow to the podium after the victory. But he simply stalked towards the second barrel. Today, he would fight precisely as he wished.
The thunder of the crowd faded as Bonosus’s men finished off the criminals. The bodies and weapons were removed. Maesa reappeared from the western gate. He offered exaggerated applause to Indavara and waited for something approaching silence.
‘Such intelligence! Such skill! Still, this was a poor class of foe. Now our warrior must face a giant enemy with a formidable reputation. From distant Germania, fighting with trident and net, and with a record of victory in forty-one contests, let us welcome to the arena. . Auctus!’
The northerner couldn’t possibly have prepared himself for the onslaught of abuse that greeted him as he strode out from the eastern gate. He kept his head held high and his expression neutral as bread and fruit rained down upon him. His long stride soon took him out of range and, after the noise died down, a few cheers could even be heard, some of them rather high-pitched.
Auctus could hardly have looked more different to Indavara. He was six inches taller, long-limbed, fair-haired and blue-eyed with high, pronounced cheekbones and an angular jaw. His left shoulder and upper arm were wrapped by thick padding; and this was covered by a section of bronze scale armour that began at his collar and stretched down to his elbow.
Held high in his left hand was the trident: a six-foot wooden pole topped by three barbed iron spikes. In his right hand was the net. Indavara had scoffed when he’d first seen one, but now knew how deadly they could be. Fully nine feet wide, the net was weighted around the edge by lead weights or, as in this case, polished stones. Indavara had seen them ensnare swords, trip a man from twenty yards, even take out an eye. He wondered what inadequate weapon Capito would provide this time. Any type of spear or sword would do; the longer the better.
Auctus had just noticed the female attention. He wandered towards the enclave and swung his net languidly above his shoulder, as if to catch the women. This was too much for one young girl who flung herself at the parapet and had to be restrained by her friends. With a slight grin, the northerner strode back across the rope and back into the second section.