Champion in Love (bxb)

CHAPTER 8. The Arena of Japes.

Junius still hadn't joined the chase, sticking to the middle of the arena, doing his drills to keep warm. He kept one eye on the proceedings, of course, as a seasoned fighter should.

Once Quintus tossed his net prematurely, Junius brought his two rudii to bear. The aggression of his movement brought a collective gasp out of the audience... Yet Junius stayed put. Not wrong by any means, but the disappointed glances swiveled away from him.

I chuckled, for only fools would dismiss Junius like that in favor of Laurentius. The arena crowd isn't the smartest beast out there, so I forgave them their fascination with my shield-wall. He was championing Fidelium's hopes after all, despite being a barbarian himself. Because that was what it meant, to be a gladiator. You fought for yourself and for glory, and let the crowd fly whatever colors they wanted.

With the weight of collective pride riding on his shoulders, just duped, Laurentius executed a turn so lumbering, I cringed. The audience cheered him anyway, for the beer was always cheap and plentiful at the Colosseum.

Once Laurentius finally had a straight shot at Victor, his legs pumped with superhuman effort. He was doing the impossible, gaining on the jester, despite his properly laced, heavy breast-plate. Laurentius and I cried out in one voice, when he closed in on Victor.

His was a yelp of triumph.

Mine was a scream of frustration. I taught Laurentius better than that! Then I swallowed my scream, because Victor seemed to have made his first mistake in this match.

Caught between the advancing human anvil and Junius' whirling rudii at his back, Victor didn't throw himself into a sidelong roll as I would have done. He charged head-long at Laurentius. With grace I hadn't previously seen in any man of his height and stature, Victor's speed went from standing to blur in mere two strides.

I sucked on my teeth. "What are you doing?"

The third stride closed the distance between the two tall men. If Victor was hoping Laurentius, armed, armored, and enraged would chicken out of the head-on clash—

Of course, he didn't!

They didn't crush into one another either, because Victor vaulted over Laurentius, using the shield-wall's huge shoulder as a pivot. Victor's legs whipped through the air, making a semicircle. He landed a few yards behind his foe with a tiger's lightness.

Laurentius should have snuck a hit at Victor while he was showing off. Any hit: glancing, grazing, a blessed scratch... whatever! And he didn't. He was too busy losing his balance and trying to see what in Mithras' name was happening, where Victor had disappeared. The cheek plates of his helmet kept Victor just outside his field of vision. He swiveled his head, looking completely lost, then belly flopped onto the sand. Curses poured out of his mouth together with foaming saliva, but the screaming in the stands overpowered them completely.

Victor didn't check for what either Laurentius, or Junius, or Didius were doing. He moved on... Quintus!

Or, more precisely, on Quintus' net, which still lay abandoned on the sand. Victor's speed versus his size was a sight to behold. Quintus must have been impressed by it too, because he squealed in disbelief, then took off, racing Victor to the net full-tilt. His wiry body was built for sprinting, but Victor had a head start.

Mithra's balls on a spit! If Quintus ran like that before, he could have struck while Victor was playing with Laurentius! With his obvious jealousy, how did he not bruise our rookie and his giant ego?

Alas, Quintus woke up to the missed possibilities too late. His mouth twisted like he was going to cry. Momentarily, my irritation melted with a pang of guilt. If this wasn't a mock fight, he would have paid for tears in his throat and for that stumble. He was too young for the arena of blood! I shouldn't have—