Chapter 3

Fresh meat was interesting to several people, so I managed to get a gig a whole lot sooner than I could have normally expected. Normally, a gladiator didn't fight but about once a month, but there was a big name guy who needed a match to pay some pressing gambling debts. It was easy to talk him into taking me on because of that, and his owner was confident enough in Horatio's abilities that he was willing to go along.

Horatio fought as a Thracian, so he was figured to be a close enough match to a Sammite that we could have a reasonably equal fight, as far as armor and weapons were concerned. Of course, Horatio was such an experienced gladiator that the betting line on me was going to be heavily biased. My friends would make a fortune if they could find people to take their bets. I even had my owner put 50 sestertii on me. I didn't want to leave Fiona destitute if I did screw up, but at odds of 22:1, I couldn't resist the temptation to wager something.

The morning of the contest, I was lectured on the rules of gladiatorial combat, but I found that I already knew them—another magical gift that I received when I was transported. The stadium was rather large with a magnificently manicured arena floor. Whoever was putting on this show was sparing no expense. He must have been expecting a lot of prestige to result by enticing Horatio to show up early for a contest. We were the last bout on the fight card, so it was quite late in the afternoon before our match started.

As an illustration of the importance attached to Horatio, there were four referees, and all of them made a point of speaking forcefully to me about obeying the rules. This didn't give me any problem, I figured that it would just make me look that much more important when I won.

The stands were full, and the men taking bets were having trouble keeping up with the demand. The odds had now shifted to close to 50:1 in favor of Horatio, and the late comers were rushing to lay down a bet. I'll bet a few were betting on me just because of the ridiculous odds being offered.

Since I was the lessor light in the contest, I was led out first. There were some cheers and a lot of jeers as I entered the arena. Some people were already gathering up their belongings because they expected this to be a short fight. The usual length of a match of this sort was 10-15 minutes, with a rare case of the fight running to 20 minutes. I wanted to be remembered, so I planned to stretch the bout out to 30 minutes if I could.

Anyway, I waved to the crowd and waited for them to calm down as we all paused for the entrance by Horatio. He eventually came in to the blare of trumpets and tubas as they played a triumphal march. I almost laughed because one of the tubas was so far off tune that even I could recognize it, and this was the first time I had ever heard this particular music.

Horatio marched in with the considerable dignity and aplomb that he had earned after 11 years as a gladiator. He could have retired long ago, but he was such a foolish gambler, especially on the chariot races, that he was constantly in debt. I was so impressed by the way he walked into the arena that I bowed to him when he got close, and he acknowledged the tribute with a nod of his head—about what I expected.

We were formally introduced to the crowd. I had taken the gladiatorial name of Janus, since that was about as close to John as I could come up with on short notice. We faced off, and the head referee signaled the beginning of the bout.

Horatio had never seen me fight, of course, so he wanted to test my reactions to various maneuvers. For one thing, he wanted to give the crowd a good show, just as I did, so this would build up the suspense. He had a small shield and a curved sword, sort of like a scimitar. His armor consisted of a helmet and full greaves on both legs all the way up to his crotch. His first maneuver was to swing his shield at my head to see if I would try to duck or would try to block it with my shield. This was lightning fast because the shield was so small and easily maneuverable.

I neither ducked nor blocked, but simply stepped back just enough for the shield to miss me. This threw him off balance and gave me time to step in and bang him as hard as I could on the left leg with my sword. His greave kept him from being cut, but he was staggered by the blow. We both received a cheer from the crowd for that bit of action, so we knew that the crowd was paying attention.

It was my turn, so I kind of hunkered down behind my shield and charged Horatio to bang him in the body with my shield. This was definitely not a common tactic, and he was not able to counter it completely. I hit him, and it was like running into a tree! Oh, he was staggered, all right, but he recovered quickly and did not fall. That produced another cheer. I think that most of the crowd was aware of what we were doing and highly approved. This was something rarely seen at the arena, and was worth them paying attention.

I could almost see the gears cranking in Horatio's skull as he realized that I was not going to be the pushover that he had assumed I would be. His was a slashing sword, rather than a stabbing sword, and mine was normally considered to be just the opposite. Therefore, his next move was to try to cut me somewhere on the body with a series of slashes. Those were no half-assed swings as he laid into me. The thuds on my shield gave proof to the strength in his sword arm. I was purely on the defense at this time. The blows rained down so rapidly that I did not have time to retaliate with my own sword. Any one of those blows that might have landed would have put me on the ground permanently. This guy was not fooling around!

Horatio was swinging with such force that he tired quickly and had to back off. That was what I had been waiting for, and I began to swing and stab with my sword at his body as fast as I could move. He adroitly blocked my stabs with his shield, and my few swings were aimed at his legs because I wanted to make them sore and tired. I was no more successful than he was, but we did please the crowd, which was something we both wanted to do.

We both puffed and blew for a minute or so, and the referees allowed this, since neither one of us was goofing off. I shouted, "FOR REAL, THIS TIME!" and began to stab and pound at his left thigh with all of my might. He was not going to be cut by this kind of attack, but his leg was going to give out on him if he didn't break my attack pretty damned soon.

Horatio responded by whipping his sword at my gut, and I was barely able to block the slash. We exchanged blows like this for several minutes, with me pounding on his left thigh and him trying to slash my stomach area. He did get through far enough a couple of times to nick the roll of fat and let some blood flow. This thrilled the crowd and brought more cheers for the hero of the hour. However, I could see that he was having more and more trouble supporting himself on that leg that I had been pounding on, and I hoped that it would give out before I messed up with my shield and received a major cut.

We took a short break by circling each other as if we were looking for openings in the other man's defense, but, actually, we were both just trying to catch our breaths. Shit, as far as I could see, Horatio's reputation was well deserved, and I was not going to win as easily as I had hoped.

We returned to pounding on each other as we had been doing, with Horatio occasionally getting through my defense enough to render small cuts in my well-covered-with-fat hide. I was coming to appreciate that the gladiators really knew what they were doing by putting on as much fat as they could handle.