Simon Scarrow - Arena

‘That must be Narcissus,’ he muttered to himself.

He lowered his eyes to the mouth of the tunnel on the opposite side of the arena as two attendants filed out and approached the centre circle bearing the weapons to be used for the fight. As they reached it, the umpire pricked his thumb against the tips of the two swords in turn. Nodding to himself, he raised his thumb to the Emperor, confirming the weapons’ sharpness and drawing a crescendo of cheers from the mob. Pavo drew close to the umpire. A sick feeling gnawed at his guts as he realised he was standing on the same spot where his father’s severed head had been displayed to the mob. The thought filled him with anguish and anger.

A moment later Hermes stormed out of the same tunnel through which the attendants had emerged, into a deafening wall of noise. A section of the crowd rose to its feet, vocally clamouring for their hero to tear his opponent limb from limb.

‘There’s only one Hermes!’ his fans shouted, roaring themselves hoarse. ‘Only one Hermes!’

The very ground trembled as Hermes marched towards the circle. He was wearing the same body armour as Pavo, although his shield carried his signature image of Cerberus and his champion’s belt was wrapped round his waist above his loincloth. Pavo felt the sweat on his back turn cold with fear as Hermes approached him. The colossus from Rhodes appeared even more muscular than he remembered. His biceps were solid and smoothly curved, as if fashioned from marble. The veins on his forearms were like cords of rope. He paraded to the crowd, bowing to all four grandstands in turn. Pavo felt his heart briefly soar as he heard a number of spectators jeer Hermes and cheer his own name.

‘Pavo’s going to cut your head off!’ a voice bellowed clearly above the din.

Staring out of the grille that covered his face, Pavo glanced back past his shoulder and spied Macro looking on from the mouth of the tunnel. Bucco stood next to the soldier. Pavo drew strength from Macro’s presence. His gruff honesty and stubborn dedication to the task at hand put many of Pavo’s high-born friends to shame, and he had learned more from the soldier in a few months under his wing than the years spent studying the classics and observing the great debates in the Senate. He was sure that Macro would make a fine centurion one day.

The umpire gestured for both fighters to lean in as he explained the rules of the bout.

‘Now listen,’ he barked so that both gladiators could hear him above the noise of the crowd. ‘The rules are simple. It’s a fight to the death, which means there’s no mercy from the Emperor today. If neither of you is able to kill your opponent outright, I’ll call an end to the contest and the judges will declare a winner.’

He pointed to three magistrates wearing fine togas and seated on the bottom row along the northern stand, below the podium. Each gripped a wax tablet and a stylus, poised to make a mark whenever one of the participants landed a clear blow on his opponent. Pavo turned back to the umpire as he went on.

‘The loser must accept the judges’ decision with good grace. Whoever loses, I expect you to die like a true Roman. I want a fair fight, and that means no tugging at each other’s armour, no chucking sand and no stepping outside the chalk line. If you step over the line, you forfeit the match — and your life. Understood?’

‘Yes,’ Pavo said.

‘Let’s get this over with,’ Hermes rasped from behind his helmet. ‘I can’t wait to cut this brat to pieces, just like I did to that treacherous Roman shit Titus.’

‘My father was an honourable man,’ Pavo retorted. ‘You’re just scum, Hermes.’

The champion erupted into laughter, his massive shoulders heaving. ‘Fool. Once I’ve carved you up, I’ll take my place among the greats.’

Pavo frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Narcissus has promised that a statue will be built in my honour, celebrating my victories. It will go on display in the Campus Martius. I’ll be idolised by Romans across the Empire.’ He snorted in amusement. ‘Why else do you think I came out of retirement? I was already the greatest gladiator who ever lived. Now I’ll be recognised as a true hero — more than old Titus ever was.’

Pavo lunged at Hermes, gripped by an indescribable hatred and unable to hold back his rage. The umpire thrust out his hands, separating the two gladiators and ordering them back two paces. With his tall, sinewy build and black eyes sunk deep into his skull beneath his bald head, the man carried the air of a strict schoolteacher, and both gladiators immediately obeyed his command. When the umpire was satisfied that both fighters were under control, he nodded to the attendants. They handed a sword each to Pavo and Hermes, then quickly retreated towards the tunnel entrance. The crowd suddenly hushed. The moment of the fight was finally upon them. All eyes fixed on the umpire. Pavo stared ahead at Hermes, picturing his face behind the visor, imagining his scarred upper lip twisted with hatred. The younger man tightened his grip on the handle of his sword and took a deep breath.

At last the umpire filled his lungs and bellowed, ‘FIGHT!’

Hermes took Pavo by surprise, pushing forward instead of retreating behind his shield, instantly slamming his sword arm out and angling the tip of his weapon at his opponent’s exposed neck beneath his helmet. Pavo froze for an instant, the sword tip twinkling softly as it surged towards his throat. Then he hiked up his shield just in time and the sword rang dully as it glanced off the top edge and veered above and to the side of his head. In the next moment Hermes let out an animal growl and charged at Pavo with his shield tucked tight to his shoulder. Pavo crouched behind his own shield. The frame shuddered violently as Hermes clattered into him. Pavo dug his feet into the sand and held firm, the honed muscles in his legs tensing to stop him from falling backwards. The powerful impact trembled up his forearm and stung his shoulder muscles as panic flooded his mind. His strategy for the fight had been based upon the assumption that Hermes would rely on the counterattack. He had not prepared for his opponent to charge at him. Now Hermes sidestepped to his right and thrust his sword at Pavo’s unguarded flank. Spinning round to face his opponent, Pavo quickly dropped to one knee and ducked behind his shield, blocking the pointed tip before it could puncture his midriff. The crowd screamed in delight as the sword rattled against the shield boss and glanced off.

Heart pounding, Pavo glimpsed Hermes above the rim of his shield. The champion was hacking his sword down like an axe chopping wood. Pavo instinctively hoisted his shield horizontally above his head in a smooth, swift motion, his arduous sparring sessions in the courtyard with Ruga firmly ingrained in his muscles. There was a thunderous crack as Hermes’s sword hammered against the shield. Pavo felt a vicious pain shooting through his wrist as it absorbed the shock of the impact. Now he pushed up, every sinew and muscle in his legs straining as he threw off his opponent’s sword and knocked Hermes off balance. He jerked his flat shield forward, just as Ruga had taught him. Hermes grunted as the iron-rimmed edge slammed against his bronze chest protector. A wild cheer erupted from a section of the crowd as Hermes was momentarily stunned. Others booed vehemently. Glancing over his shoulder, Pavo realised he had been pushed back from the centre of the combat circle. He now stood a few short paces from the edge, the chalk mark clearly visible in the sand.

He swung his gaze back to Hermes, perspiring hard inside his helmet. Droplets of sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eyes, temporarily blurring his sight. Ahead of him Hermes quickly recovered from the shield blow and brought the base of his sword crashing down on top of Pavo’s shield, battering it to the ground before booting it aside. Pavo felt his heart skip a beat as the handle was savagely wrenched free of his aching grip. The shield landed a short distance to his right. Cursing the gods, he reached out to retrieve it, but Hermes reacted in a flash, slashing his sword at his opponent’s outstretched arm. An intense searing pain stung Pavo’s flesh as the sword tip grazed his bicep, nicking the muscle. Hissing sharply between gritted teeth, he snatched his trembling hand away from the shield, blood seeping from his glistening wound. Now Hermes swung his sword down at his opponent and Pavo immediately jerked his own weapon above his head. A rasping clang echoed around the arena as the two swords slammed into each other just above his helmet. Filling his lungs, Pavo roared and sprang to his full height, throwing off Hermes. The champion stumbled backwards, visibly shaken by the sheer strength of his opponent. He made a deep keening sound in his throat.