To Love Again - Bertrice Small [149]
Metal clanged upon metal as the two men thrust and parried with their weapons. Cailin soon realized that the battle was not so evenly matched after all. The Saxon’s antagonist was not his equal in skill. The champion jumped and twirled in a series of maneuvers deliberately executed to please the crowd. Twice the other man left himself open to attack, but the Saxon feinted to distract attention. Finally the crowd began to catch on, and they screamed with outrage.
“There’s few his match,” Basilicus noted. “He’s but tried to give them a good show, but they want blood. Well, they’ll get it now, I think. The Saxon should have been saved for the final day instead of having him fight two days. Gabras obviously wanted his money’s worth.”
The combat took a different turn now, with the Saxon attacking his opponent vigorously while the other man fought desperately to save his life. The champion, however, refused to draw it out any further. Relentlessly he drove the other Samnite across the ring, his opponent getting few blows in and striving to protect himself with his shield. The Saxon rained blow after blow upon it, until finally the man fell back, exhausted, his defense falling from his hand. The Saxon swiftly and mercifully pierced the other gladiator’s heart with his sword. Then he walked across the ring to the cheers of the spectators and saluted the emperor with the bloodied weapon.
“Remove your helmet, Saxon,” Justin Gabras said loftily, “that the emperor may see your face when he congratulates you on your victory.”
The Saxon removed his helmet and said, “There is no victory against a weaker man, lord. In two days’ time, however, I will fight the Hun. I will bring you his head upon a silver salver, and then I will accept your congratulations for a battle well fought.”
“You do not fear death?” the emperor said quietly.
“No, majesty,” the Saxon replied. “I have already lost everything I ever held dear. What is death but an escape? Yet the gods have willed it that I must live for now.”
“You are not a Christian, Saxon?”
“Nay, majesty. I worship Woden and Thor. They are my gods,” came the reply, “but the gods, I think, do not concern themselves with little men like myself, else I should have had my heart’s desire.”
Cailin stared at the Saxon as if mesmerized. She could not hear what was being said, but she knew he was speaking, for his lips were moving. It could not be. He looked like Wulf, but it simply could not be. Wulf was in Britain, on their lands, with a new wife and child. This man could not be Wulf Ironfist, and yet.… She needed to hear his voice, to see him up close.
“I told you he was a glorious creature,” Casia purred in smug tones. “Even covered in sweat and dirt he is beautiful, is he not, Cailin? Cailin? Cailin!” She tugged at her friend’s sleeve.
“What? What is it, Casia? What did you say? I was not listening, I fear. You must forgive me. I was momentarily distracted.”
Casia giggled. “I can certainly see you were, and by what.”
Cailin smiled. “Yes, he is a beautiful fellow,” she replied, regaining control of herself, “but despite it all, I do not like these gladiatorial combats.”
“My lord Aspar?” A guardsman had entered the box. “The emperor would speak with you a moment.”
Aspar hurried from the box. When he returned several minutes later, he said to Cailin, “There are emissaries here from Adrianople. It seems the peace there grows more fragile with each hour, and fighting is threatening to break out again between the religious factions. I am going to try and mediate this here in the palace with Leo tonight. Do you mind going home alone, my love?”
Cailin shook her head. Actually she was relieved. She needed time to think. The resemblance between the Saxon and Wulf was amazing, though his hair was lighter than Wulf’s corn-colored locks